


A Tale of Mirkwood

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Characters - Well-handled romance/eroticism, Romance, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2009-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3777825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.<br/><br/>*NON-10TH-MEMBER*<br/>*NON-SLASH*<br/>*NON-AU*<br/>*NON-GIRL-FALLS-INTO-ME*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Orc Camp

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Author's Note: I presume to own nothing of Tolkien's word, characters, or verse.

**CHAPTER 1**

**THE ORC CAMP**

The forest of Mirkwood was dark and evil in those wretched times. Sauron's forces consumed it and aspired with all their hatred to quench the good that still walked beneath its mighty trees. Yet, the forest was vast and not all good is easily defeated.

Far into the north, past the Mirkwood Mountains, lived the Wood-elves: noble and graceful, mighty and elegant, wise and ancient. They were ruled by their King, Thranduil, who had four sons, all radiantly fair with golden hair and eyes of sky blue. The Elven princes' names, and in order of birth, were Legolas, Haldof, Tarnil, and Galamed. Long had the elves lived in peace and prosperity in the wood, but the Dark Lord had his own design of the fate of all who challenged his will.

Forces were growing in his darkened realm in the south, raiding only to scourge and retreat. Thranduil, stern and absolute, knew that their present course could not continue without soon infringing on his own lands and people. Scouts reported that a camp of goblins lay southeast past the mountains. Three attacks had these Orcs made in a fortnight and Thranduil's patience was spent. Fifty Elven warriors were chosen to lead the assault on the camp. Thranduil's four sons were amongst them.

Haldof, though born a year after Legolas, was always one to assume command. Legolas never felt affronted but regarded some of Haldof's decisions as rather impetuous. This attack required great planning and care; all of which Thranduil awarded to his sons' able control.

Elves assembled at the appointed hour to see their noble kinsmen off. Thranduil stood pensively in the clearing, stars glistening overhead. "For now, part we must, yet shall meet again. May you be swift and sure in battle and return once more." The company bowed low to their great king and moved to depart. Soft Elven voices rose high into the night sky in songs of valour and sodality.

"Legolas, my son," Thranduil called out. Legolas turned and strode back to his father. "You will oversee all, I hope. You are my eldest son and, therefore, in command."

"Aye, Father," Legolas said.

"Haldof, I know, craves leadership and is apt at stirring our hearts. But more so than him, you have a discerning mind. Your knowledge of battle is great, and you are quick to think coolly when situations are harried and critical. He may need your guidance but be reluctant to solicit it."

"I understand."

"Good," Thranduil said as his mind was put at ease. He placed a loving hand on his son's shoulder. "Delay not your return." Legolas nodded and sprung onward with the Elves heading for battle.

The band traveled throughout the night with much haste and reached the foothills the following nightfall. Clouds blew in from the north but hovered menacingly over the summits. No moon could be seen through the thick haze; nonetheless, they went onwards cautiously, resting little.

They halted briefly at the base of the mountains to sup on the fragrant herb bread and pungent cheese they carried with them. Haldof approached his brothers and requested a private meeting with them.

"We should take the pass by Crassus. That route is by far faster, and their camp is near the exit of the trail, so says Nathuil," Haldof said, certainty in his voice.

Legolas sighed; it was as he feared. "Nay, Brother," he said gently. "We ought not attempt that trail. It is known to our enemies and will be watched. The Veridis path is known only to us. It will ensure the element of surprise. They must not suspect our attack."

"You do not know it is watched. Moreover, we could handle an attack if there was one, which I doubt."

"It is a risk not worth taking. If our coming were discovered, we would be trapped. Nay, it is wiser to take the Veridis path and ensnare them from behind."

Haldof merely nodded, but did not appear to agree. "What say you?" he said to Tarnil and Galamed. "What is your opinion?"

Tarnil and Galamed eyed each other with silent conversation. They were the youngest of the brothers and were born more than a century after Haldof and Legolas. By nature they were each tame except during the heat of battle. Neither Tarnil nor Galamed wished to join this dispute, but Tarnil spoke first. "I think we should take the Veridis path."

Haldof nodded and turned then to Galamed. "And you?"

"I agree," Galamed answered.

Haldof nodded. "As you wish, Brothers," was his only reply before marching away.

With the path now chosen, they immediately set out on it. It was a difficult ramble which led them great distances out of their way. Haldof repeatedly gave his brothers reproving glances, but said nothing. As they rose ever higher up the mountain, a cold wind swept through their robes with frigid steadiness.

Upon their descent, they stopped for a few hours rest and simple fare in the lee of a battered rock. As trees grew sparsely on the crumbling stone, the bottom of Veridis had to be met ere the sunrise or they would be exposed to watchful eyes. At length, Galamed approached Legolas.

"I am concerned for Haldof. He has spoken to none for two days. Perhaps we should have taken the other path."

Legolas gazed deeply into his brother's eyes. They resembled his own. "The risk was too great. Do you now disagree?"

"No," said Galamed with resolution. "It simply pains me to see him thus. He envies you, you know. Well, there is naught to be done now," Galamed continued. "Shall I ready everyone?" Legolas nodded and Galamed strode off in duty.

\- - -

All were again assembled and set forth down the mountain. The bottom was reached prior to dawn and they shielded themselves with the cover of woodland. Many miles were yet between them and the Orc camp. They stopped once reluctantly during the day, and then pressed on.

The sun was setting, but the air fell oppressively on the southern side of the mountains, and each Elf felt it. It was Legolas who finally called a halt.

"We are but three miles to the pass of Crassus. We shall take refuge here for the night."

Quietly and efficiently, camp was set but no fires lit. A great watch was positioned and appointed with relief every four hours. Legolas gazed at the stars which were peeping through the ceiling of the forest. Haldof approached and stood at his side.

"The air is foul here," Haldof said at length. He sighed and grew sad. "When I think of what once was..." There was no need to continue. Legolas remembered all too well himself how glorious Greenwood was until the Shadow came; then all fell dark, and evil grew. All was still dark.

"You were probably correct concerning the pass of Crassus," said Haldof, humbly. "It would have been foolish." Legolas gazed at his brother and smiled. He held out his arm, and Haldof, seeing it, grasped his forearm. They stood there momentarily, contented brothers, before joining the others.

All agreed the attack must come during daylight as Orcs by nature detest the sun and crave gloom and shadow. Legolas sent two scouts on ahead and at dawn, they returned.

"They have been dwelling in holes at the foot of the Crassus path," said Nathuil, one of the spying pair. Upon hearing this, Legolas and Haldof exchanged glances. Haldof sat abashed.

Nathuil continued. "There are many. Of those that we have slain in the fortnight past, more have arrived and in greater numbers."

"How many?" asked Legolas.

"Two hundred, perhaps more," replied Nathuil. A silence hung in the air. They were heavily outnumbered. Legolas sighed. He did not like it at all. Haldof broke the silence.

"We should attack now, and charge at them with full force."

Legolas spoke reluctantly. "Nay, that would be leaving our backs to the enemy. They could flank us."

The fires in Haldof's eyes were relit. "They will be unprepared for a fight today. As you have said, we shall have the element of surprise to aid us." He held out his arm to Legolas. "Trust me, Brother."

Legolas grasped Haldof's forearm and nodded in unwilling agreement. The conspirators soon disbursed and Legolas sat alone to contemplate the battle ahead.

\- - -

The Elves departed within minutes and approached the Orc camp with great speed. All was still and quiet in the forest, and none could hear the soft footfalls of Elven feet. They approached the camp cautiously, bows raised, poised to kill.

Suddenly, a loud, crude clang rang out. A foul voice blared out: "Elves! We're under attack!" Orcs sprung out of their holes clad in boorish, black mail. Elven bows sang and many Orcs were slaughtered until they came too close to shoot. In one graceful motion, Legolas pulled out his long, white blade and made full attack with the others slicing throat and belly alike. Goblins were falling; the battle was being won!

Boom! The ground vibrated under their feet. From what seemed all around them, rose a deep, bellowing noise. Boom, doom, boom, the drum rang and Orcs appeared, hidden at first from holes, and behind trees. Boom, doom! More than a hundred Orcs charged from behind, flanking them. The breath caught in Legolas's throat. It was as he had feared.

The fighting momentarily ceased as Elves and Orcs stood ready, each watching their opponents with a killer's eye. Vulgar laughter erupted from the Orcs, but the Elves' courage did not falter. As Orcs charged, arrows and blades flew striking each target true. The Orcs, however, were many and swarmed lone elves that had been separated from their kinsmen. Legolas was among them.

Haldof gazed in terror upon seeing Legolas separated and swarmed. "Legolas!" he cried out in desperation. He moved to go to his brother's aid when the drums sounded again, and yet another wave attacked. Fighting was fierce and grisly. When the clash subsided, Haldof sounded for retreat. The majority of Orcs had been slain, and the remainder were now scattered, about to regroup. Three Elves had been slain during the battle and they were hurriedly carried off before another attack. The survivors, bloody and wounded, took rest a mile east of the camp. There was, however, no sign of Legolas.

"Perhaps he's been taken," Tarnil said, worried.

Haldof thought hard, heart racing. "I saw him being dislocated from the battle. They were pursuing him south."

"Surely we must search for him," Galamed said, looking forlorn.

Haldof's thoughts were clouded for a moment, in despair. "Nay," he said at last. "You must relate all to our father. Our fallen must be returned to our kinsfolk."

Tarnil was quick to rebuke. "But we cannot abandon our brother!"

"Nay, I said not so. I will go in search of Legolas. I place you both in command. You must tell our father the events of this day."

Distressed, Tarnil and Galamed looked at each other and relented. They were to lead the warriors over the Veridis path homeward, and Haldof went alone into the wild in search of his brother.

**Author's Note:** Please Review!


	2. The Road East

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kindly review, please!

**CHAPTER 2**

**THE ROAD EAST**

The Orcs had battled Legolas fiercely, but he had cleverly escaped their grasp and was unharmed. Separated from his company, stranded and alone, he now had only what he carried on his person: his clothing of green and brown, his bow, a quiver of arrows, and a long, white Elven knife.

The attack and pursuit had driven him far south of the mountains, deep into the perilous domain of the spiders. He knew well of the villainous spiders who were eager to drink the blood of any man, elf, or orc who had the misfortune of becoming tangled in their webs. A lone elf wandering in a land such as that, even in daylight, was vulnerable indeed. He hid near a shaded thicket and puzzled as to his next move. "Returning the way I came would be folly. The enemy is bound to search that way." Legolas knelt to the earth. Fresh tracks could clearly be seen in the disturbed soil. "Orcs, and many." He stood and extracted his bow and would keep it in hand. "Southeast is the wisest direction to take," he thought, and moved stealthily off again for the Veridis path.

Hours passed and evening sky spread widely overhead like a gruesome hand. Legolas stumbled abruptly upon something he did not intend, and would much rather have avoided. In front of him stood saddened trees snared with mammoth webs. The silky ropes hung like interconnected walls in a great labyrinth from which there was no path of escape. He could go no further.

His sharp Elven ears heard a clicking noise and within a flash, Legolas's bow was armed. His gaze rose, and high in the gnarled, twisted trees sat an inky spider, its many eyes staring his way. Though not as large as some he had slain throughout his long lifetime, he was ever wise that even the smallest spider in Mirkwood was deadly.

It sat, poised, clicking delightedly to itself. What a treat! A nice, juicy Elf, all alone. "You fearful of little me?" it said in a rasping, hissing voice. "I cannot harm a great Elf like you."

Legolas said nothing but stepped cautiously back. Retreat was the wisest course.

"Where are you going?" the spider asked, its pincers snapping together. It made no movement to overtake him; it simply sat in the tree, waiting. Legolas stepped further backward. His sense of dread was increasing every moment.

"Now Siiliis! Catch him!" the spider cried. Legolas whirled, looked up and saw a massive spider sinking down upon him. He bolted out of the way and loosed his arrow once more. Siiliis screeched and twitched uncontrollably while green, slimy ooze flowed from the wound. It then made a horrible hissing cry and lunged for him. Legolas cast down his bow, drew out his knife and, swinging madly, sliced three legs from the enormous beast before stabbing it fatally in its belly. He stepped back and wiped the filth off his weapon with the spider's wooly coat. Picking up his bow, he glanced back at the small spider; it was still sitting in the tree, now trembling and recoiling into the darkness. Legolas sheathed his blade, and resumed his journey.

\- - -

Sunlight began to diminish. The Old Forest Road had been reached, but little comfort did that bring as he suspected it would be watched. Not an hour passed before all was completely dark. Legolas stopped still on the shadowy road and grasped his bow. His keen Elven ears had not failed him. Voices from the south! Legolas could hear their loud cursing as they approached. About to retreat, he was halted again by the noise of even more voices coming along the path from the north.

"Gâshk, you're a simple-minded fool!" the voice said in the Common Speech.

Legolas quickly reacted to his predicament and jumped lightly off the path and into the underbrush of an immense beech. He pulled out his long blade, resting it behind him and sat perfectly still. Voices grew louder and their foul makers suddenly appeared. Three Orcs stepped into Legolas's limited view, each filth ridden and sinister. Their evil yellow eyes scanned about the darkness. One had only three fingers on his left, blackened hand, Legolas observed. "I know I heard something," it said.

"You always think you've heard something," replied another. The cool, spring wind rustled some newborn leaves.

"Quiet!" the three fingered one ordered odiously. They all stood still, listening attentively. An Orc slowly approached Legolas's hiding place, something had caught its okra coloured eye. Had it seen the sheen of his blade? The Orc leaned toward the brush, peering in. Legolas sat perfectly still; the hilt of his blade gripped tightly in his right hand. The Orc, unable to see inside the brush leaned forward still, until suddenly, a loud howl was heard as six Orcs pounced onto the road. All blades were instantly drawn and then let fall at their sides. A massive Orc stepped forth. Legolas recognized him immediately as among the same Orcs that attacked him earlier.

"You scraping dogs!" it roared. The three from the east merely stood, unamused. "You missed a hard battle, but now you hunt with us."

"We have our orders, Ugnúl," said the three fingered one. "Khnásh's orders were to patrol the road."

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Ugnúl let out a vindictive laugh upon seeing the large Orc's confused expression. "He's not heard." The gang around Ugnúl laughed equally wickedly. "Khnásh is dead. I'm in command now. Got that Lâsh?" he said, pointing to the three-fingered one. "There's a nasty little Elf out there that I mean to catch."

"Elves dwell in the north, not the south," Lâsh replied.

"We passed his handiwork," said one of Ugnúl's cronies. "Wretched spiders! Nearly spoilt our sport!"

"He's here, but he won't get far," Ugnúl assured the gang. "He'll be heading north. I'll lay wagers he's been along this road."

"No Elf has passed our watch. I can vouch for that," Lâsh snarled.

"Vouch? Ha!" Ugnúl smirked. "You clods wouldn't notice if a troll passed you! We take the road. We'll catch him."

"He's not gone past I tell you!" Lâsh declared.

"Caught you napping, did he?" Ugnúl said. "Well, I'd like to see him get by me! Let's go!" he ordered. The gang of Orcs moved resolutely northward, and again all fell quiet in the forest. Legolas remained still for a while, pondering his next move. He shook his head, not liking the choices laid out for him. The safest route, he believed, now lay ahead, not behind. Farther south he must travel, then turn east until reaching the Celduin River. From there, home would be but a short distance, and a familiar one.

He rose and, once again, set out into the cursed darkness. He had much fear of what lay hidden in the south. Orcs frequently had legions moving around Dol Guldur which festered with evil forces. Wargs, allegiant to Sauron, roamed in packs, ready to sniff out any intruder in their territory, and there was always the possibility of stumbling into another spider's domain.

\- - -

Night passed slowly, and subdued daylight finally broke in. He was fatigued; the previous day's trials had been great, but he found no place suitable or safe enough for rest. A slight wind brushed Legolas's face, but the air was heavy and hot.

As he journeyed on throughout the day, his heart grew discouraged. He crossed paths with no one and was acutely aware of every noise the creaking wood made. It was murky under the tall boughs of the massive trees, despite the sun being high in the sky. He passed neither stream nor pond, and his thirst was steadily mounting. The trees encircled him like giant, brown walls, stretching out as far as his elven eyes could see.

The sun began to sink in the west, but he could not see the dying orb. As darkness grew, the air fell even heavier. Orcs would come out of their foul holes soon, and be hot after his trail. He knew that they would have realized their error by now and altered their route. Of course, an elf leaves no trail: no marks upon the earth, at least. Loathsome wargs, however, were fierce stalkers. Not even an elf can escape what a warg can smell, and where the warg howls, an Orc is surely near.

Fortunately, one of the places a Wood-elf is most at home is in a tree. He stood at the trunk of a beech and let his soft hand rest upon its rough bark. He could feel the life under his palm, circulating and emitting a strong essence. Legolas jumped up, caught the bough, and gracefully pulled himself up. He climbed nimbly up the sturdy branches, up and up. Nearing a hundred feet from the ground, at last his head protruded from the roof of the forest. The sky was a radiant golden orange, and nearest to the earth, a dusky purple. Up on the tips of the treetops, Legolas closed his eyes as he felt the sweet, cool air sweep through his long, flaxen hair. The air was fresh, not weighty as in the bowels of the forest.

\- - -

The sun set and night crept in. Evil would soon be underfoot. Gazing up into the sky, Legolas could see the glorious twinkling of Eärendil, the Elves most beloved star. More stars peeked out and Legolas's spirits were lifted. Yet, under their soft, watchful gaze, he knew he could not remain. He must be on the move ere the gruesome creatures caught whiff of him.

With deep regret, he lowered himself neath the forest roof and all was dark. Again the heavy air strangled his throat, but linger, he could not.

He climbed down ten feet and began to make his trek to the next tree. Up so high in the trees, no warg's nose could go. He leaped lightly from branch to branch, ever careful not to slip. It was slow moving in the gloom, but after he had passed three miles in the trees, rest was desperately needed, and well deserved. He found a mighty bough and lay atop it. His eyes remained open all night, while his head filled with ominous dreams.

Far off, now and then throughout the night, the sullen howl of wargs could be heard. Not close enough to alarm him, but he knew he was being hunted. He could feel the disturbing threat of evil steadily grow closer, and yet remain at a distance. For now, nonetheless, he would be safe.

\- - -

The darkness rose slowly from the thick of the woods as daylight began to stream in. It would be safe now to move to the forest floor. Climbing down the tree, he jumped the last fifteen feet, landing by a bubbling stream. Indeed, he was thirsty; his mouth was exceedingly parched. He gazed into the pool, suspiciously. A white foam churned upon its surface, and a fetid vapour arose from its slimy rocks. It was not fit to drink. He would simply have to wait.

There was no path for him to follow, and even if there had been, he would not set foot upon it. Evil has eyes in many places and, undoubtedly, all roads would be watched.

The woodland seemed eerily calm as he walked along that morning. No birds sang out. No wind blew. No leaves rustled. The air remained just as heavy as the day before. Evil was near, even though the sun shone. All was quiet and still.

Legolas pushed on quickly through the day, running like a deer from a hunter. Even though he had now travelled more than ten leagues south, the peril in his mind did not diminish. It lingered with him throughout his journey, and each time he paused for rest, it seemed to rise again. He knew wrathful Orcs were coming for him.

Night was already beginning to fall. Too soon. He had not travelled far enough to his liking. Orcs can be fearless hunters and move with swift speed when they have the notion. It would not take long for them to discover his route. He resolved to run on until dusk and then make his home in the trees as he had done so the night before.

He wished to be on the easternmost edge of Mirkwood in two days at the most, and hoped only that he could remain elusive until then. He could handsomely slay a large group of Orcs by himself, but he knew not the number of his pursuers. Orcs, renowned for moving cowardly in hordes, are ready to stamp out and slaughter any poor tree, beast, or creature they meet. Legolas knew he could not defend himself against a strengthened squadron, fatigued as he was. The lack of water, food, and sleep was beginning to affect him. He simply must make it to the forest rim. Once there, escape would be much easier. The dense air made running arduous. His lungs ached.

It was not long before it was too dark and dangerous to run any farther. Legolas discovered an ancient oak with a massive trunk, and long, gnarled branches. Climbing the great tree proved difficult for his enervated body, but once high above the earth, he again moved with ease as he began his nightly expedition from tree to tree.

The menace that continued to haunt his senses had not waned with the setting of the sun. Rather, it intensified. Legolas's bright elven eyes flared in the dark of the wood, searching for any sign of danger. Scant light, however, allowed them to see very little.

Orcs! Legolas could feel them approach from afar. They felt distant but were moving swiftly and coming ever closer. "No rest again tonight, and I am already weary. If they are on the move, so must I be. I cannot linger, cannot wait, for their visit is impending."

Lightly, he stepped from branch to branch, crawling through walls of thick foliage. The forest grew denser. Immense vines choked his path until there was no way to go but back or down. The thorns which grew on the vines were small, but sharp as a dragon's claw. "Dragon's Snare," he said irritably. The slightest touch would tear the flesh. They scratched at his hands and pulled at his clothes.

Legolas drew out his long, pearly, white knife and struck mightily at the strong cords. They were sliced, but broke away only slightly. He slashed his blade repeatedly against the hardy ropes, yet in the end, to no avail. Crumbling vines broke loose only to reveal more vines adorned with thorny hooks. Advancing proved impossible; he could move forward in the trees no longer. Thus, he was now faced with a daunting dilemma: to remain there for the night, or return to the earth and make his way on foot. Neither choice was free of risk. To remain, immobile, in the trees seemed unwise. Orcs were closing in at that very moment. His only other choice, however, was equally unappealing as wargs would surely pick up his scent. He could not mask his trail.

Legolas decided his best chance now was below the trees, rather than in them, this night. If he remained and was discovered, he would be trapped and have no possible means of escape.

He leapt out of the tree and stood very still in the dark. He closed his eyes and listened to the whispers of the forest. The Orcs had moved closer. Yes, that was certain.

A warg's shrill howl rang out. Legolas's eyes flashed open. The warg was close, and off to the south. There was no time to waste.

He ran into the pitch with no stars or moon to guide him. Onward and eastward he went, and more roaring howls answered the first. Some felt more northward, others westward. There was now no doubt; they had discovered him at last. Their meeting seemed imminent.

Legolas stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead stood a massive warg, the fur along its spine standing up like giant spikes, its growl menacing. In a flash, Legolas had his bow in hand, ready to shoot. He stared at the warg; the warg stared back. Legolas could now sense other creatures around him, closing in. Glancing about, he saw two other wargs inching closer, baring their monstrous teeth.

Out of the night stepped a group of Orcs. They joined the Wargs, forming a circle, and mockingly pointed at Legolas, all the while laughing fiendishly. Their leader swaggered forward, fist tightly clutching his crude blade. He was huge in body and grotesque in face. His bulbous yellow eyes glowed threateningly in the murky blackness. It was Ugnúl.

"You're a sly Elf, I'll give you that," said Ugnúl in the Common Tongue. It was a gruff, heinous voice which emanated from a foul, rotting mouth showing strings of greenish saliva. "But that is a trait common among Elves, I should think. You're all slippery little sneaks, aren't you?"

Legolas made no reply. The Orc could talk all he wished too, but as soon as his moment would come, Legolas would be ready.

A smaller Orc approached its leader. "We must not linger under these trees, Ugnúl!"

"Maggot! You think I fear one measly Elf?!" Ugnúl growled.

"It is not the Elf we fear, Ugnúl," said another. "We could handle a hundred of 'em."

"It is the witch," said the smaller Orc. "We're too close to her lair."

"What feeble-minded tales have you idiots been listening to?!" Ugnúl replied, a look of bitter disgust upon his gruesome face.

"They are true! We must leave!" insisted the smaller Orc.

"I hear she can kill you just by looking at you," said another, growing nervous.

"She can make herself invisible! She could be here right now!" shouted the small Orc. The others grew restless, and looked frantically about the darkness for any sign of the witch. Ugnúl glared his contempt and raised a filthy, bloodstained sword.

"Cowards!" Ugnúl shouted. Then, in one lightning swift motion, he severed the smaller Orc's head. Its body slumped to the ground, lifeless yet still twitching, and its head rolled and disappeared into the inky blackness. The other Orcs fell back with dread, fearing for the safety of their own necks. When Ugnúl turned to face Legolas again, he was gone.

"Idiots! Where did he slip off to?" Ugnúl demanded.

The Orcs quickly looked around and saw the three bodies of the wargs. They had all been struck in the throat by elven arrows.

"Search everywhere!" Ugnúl thundered. "If he is not found by sunrise, you'll each regret it."

Legolas, meanwhile, had been watching the chaotic scene from a high bough of a nearby tree. Luckily, no eyes had risen upward. Orcs scattered, and soon all were gone. A short while passed. It was still some hours before daybreak, and too dangerous to remain where he was. There was naught for it. He must make an attempt.

He sprang to the earth, and waited; nothing stirred. He sprinted toward the east, in the direction of the rising sun. Ugnúl, however, was too clever. He had been waiting behind a thick trunk and pounced on the Elf knocking them both to the hard earth. Legolas found his knife directly. They rose, malice filling each other's faces. Ugnúl attacked, but Legolas was quick with his weapon. Orcs approached and cheered as the two warriors struck at each other with furious might. Their blades tangled, and Ugnúl served a swift blow which sent Legolas onto his back a few feet from the crowd. His knife landed grievously out of reach. Ugnúl stepped forth to finish the kill when a holler rang out. "Ugnúl! You mustn't!"

"Try and stop me, weakling!" Ugnúl roared to his underdog.

"Please yourself," the Orc replied with a sneer, "if you like to burn. That is the boundary of the witch's lair. They say any Orc that crosses it, bursts into flame."

Legolas stood up and glanced nervously about him. Little could be seen in the dark. It appeared to him the same as the rest of the forest.

"What Elvish rubbish is this?" Ugnúl demanded. "If you're so witless to believe in such lies, then you'll see this witch for yourself!" Ugnúl grabbed the Orc with both hands and threw him toward Legolas. In a sudden and glorious flash, the Orc was doused with bright, searing fire. A shrill wail filled the air. The writhing creature stumbled back and the flames immediately died out. His skin was now burnt blacker than the night, and the strong scent of charred flesh and hair filled the air. The other Orcs grew fearful and began to retreat. "What sorcery is this?" they cried as they fled. Legolas and Ugnúl were now alone in the dark.

A malicious smile spread onto Ugnúl's putrid face. "Look for me, Elf! Look for me when you go to leave this place...and there you shall find me."

Ugnúl then withdrew into the black abyss. Legolas dared not move else cross the invisible boundary which now protected him. He would be safe now from the Orcs at least, but of this witch, he could not imagine. "Is she Elven?" he thought. "The magic that guards her lair is exceptionally powerful." Legolas could remember none but the High Elves who bore such magic and power. "If she guards against Orcs, then, surely, I have naught to fear."

Resigning himself to that belief, Legolas lay down against a tree. He would sleep on the ground tonight.

**Author's Note:** Kindly review, please!


	3. The Woodland Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please kindly review!

**CHAPTER 3 -** **THE WOODLAND WITCH**

Legolas slept far into the morning, catching up on much needed rest. When at last he did wake, his first thought was that he was still tucked away in some Elvish dream. He was in the forest, but not at all like the forest he had been traveling through. The sun shone; light came streaming down in great golden waves which lit up the entire glade. Wild flowers of white and blue grew in shaded places and set off a strong, honey scent. The fresh, warm air was filled with melodious birdsong. Leaves on branches danced gaily in the soft refreshing breeze which brushed past his face. "Do I still dream?" he thought.

Legolas stood up. His knife still lay where it had fallen the night before. He picked it up and returned it to its sheath. Gazing at the ground, he now understood what the Orc meant by 'boundary'. There was a long, well defined line of rich grass as far as his eye could see to his left and right. On the other side of the boundary, the grass lay yellowed and sickly. The forest beyond it fell dark and brooding as it had been the days before. When he turned back, he noticed a path leading up a hill, deep into the sun-filled wood. Legolas looked about him. His eyes glanced from forest to forest, unsure which way to go.

"I shall seek out this witch," he thought. He stepped lightly onto the path, eyes vigilant for any sign of the mysterious matron. He was, after all, trespassing in her realm. She might not take kindly to uninvited visitors. He followed the path up the hill and down again. The terrain altered as he walked on. Foothills rose into towering cliffs to his right and left; the highest peak soared almost twelve hundred feet into the air. Naked rock emerged in places, but the inclined terrain was mostly adorned with tall trees. "I would like to explore this more," he thought as he strolled along. "How is it that I have not heard of this secluded lair?"  
The path stretched onward, leading farther into the hills, deeper into the Witch's domain. Trees were plentiful, yet the sun peeked through the brush here and there and illuminated the path which twisted upwards, ascending to a small ridge. Looking around, Legolas could see a bright opening through the dense foliage and soon found himself at the edge of a beautiful meadow. It was small and encircled by gracefully swaying elms. In the center stood a modest sized, wooden house. He approached it cautiously. Two windows on its western side and a slanted roof with a rough, stone chimney poking through were the main features visible. Soft, grey smoke floated lazily into the sky. He stepped forward, ever cautious, and approached a door that appeared to lead to the kitchen. The door was divided in half, the top half being open. Legolas was unable to see anyone inside but could smell something cooking. An alluring aroma filled the glen. A small, spring-fed pond sat near the house along with a garden of wild flowers and a lone willow tree; its drooping branches dipped into the water creating tiny ripples.

Suddenly, a woman carrying a large basket stepped out from behind the house. "What's this?" Legolas wondered. No Elf-witch, it could clearly be seen. She appeared to be a young, mortal woman. She was not tall or slender like an elf, yet very fair. Her most unusual feature, Legolas thought, was her brilliant, fiery red hair. Legolas had never seen hair that shade before, and marveled at its hue. It was long and curled, trailing down to her waist. She wore a dress the colour of the forest, whose cloth seemed inexpertly made as if it had been home spun and woven. No adornment graced her save that of a necklet of braided fresh lavender.  
The maiden busied herself by hanging wet linen onto some twine joined from the house to the willow tree. She hummed a tune to herself as she worked and Legolas recognized it instantly. It was the Elven song of Lúthien Tinúviel. "Curious," Legolas thought to himself.

All at once, her work and music ceased and she stood completely still as if in deep thought. Then, quite slowly, she turned and looked directly at Legolas. Her eyes were deep and penetrating. He started, not knowing what to do. A smile spread onto her face. Not a malicious smile; it was a friendly, knowing smile, somehow. She approached Legolas and spoke. "You've finally come. _Elven sila lúmenn' omentielvo_ ," she added in High Speech, while making a slight curtsy. "I've been waiting for you."

Legolas stood agape. "You've been waiting for me?" he repeated, uncertain.

"Of course. Come! You must be famished. Those Orcs are savage, cruel creatures." She walked to her curious dwelling and opened the lower door. Realizing then that Legolas had not followed her, she turned again to him. "Come," she gestured delicately with her hand, and disappeared into the house.

Legolas soon found his feet and moved in closer. He stopped in the open doorway and peered inside. The interior was clean and tidy. Shelves full of clay jars of all different sizes filled the back wall. Against it sat a hand-hewn, oak table with four chairs, while a large, pine cupboard stood near the window. The lady added more fuel to the fire; a pot bubbled noisily on the hearth.

"Come in, come in. Do not be shy. I will not eat you, you know," the maiden said playfully as she made her preparations. "You may set your weapons down there," she suggested, pointing to the floor near the doorway, "...or wear them if you wish. You are not in danger here, I assure you."

Legolas was skeptical at first, but, in the end, felt that it would be discourteous to bring weapons to a seemingly friendly meal. He unfastened his weapon's harness and set it down beside the door.

"Please, you may sit here," she said, directing him to a chair.

"Thank you very much indeed. It has been days since my last meal."

A twinge of pity pierced her heart. She could see that the orcs and forest had worn him. "Well, I beg you eat to your heart's content." She then brought forth his meal. The first to be set down was a handwoven basket full of warm, brown bread. It was fresh, moist and cast a tempting, herbal fragrance. A small crock was placed beside it filled with cool, velvety butter. Then came a large bowl in which she ladled a steaming, savory, vegetable stew of carrots, peas, beans, mushrooms, potatoes and other fine garden treasures. Beside it was set another bowl, but this one was of ripe raspberries filled dangerously close to the rim. She placed an earthenware cup on the table and into it poured ruby-red elderberry wine. Legolas could already taste the wine even though it had yet to touch his lips. He surveyed the fare appreciatively. His examination did not escape her keen eye.

"It is a modest meal, I know. I ask your pardon for not having any meat to serve you. I have not the heart to kill animals."

"Do not reprimand yourself on my account. This is a superb meal and fine enough to gladden the heart of a weary traveler!"

"You are very kind. Now, if you'll forgive me, I must finish my work outside."

"Of course," Legolas replied, softly. He rose from the table as she exited.

The common, country food could not be compared to that of Elven meals, naturally. The fare of his people, developed over many millennia, was always luscious, nourishing, subtle, exquisite. However, upon completion of this meal, he felt relaxed, comfortable, invigorated. The trials of his last days melted away. He stepped outside into sunlight.

"You have eaten sufficiently, I hope?" she asked, cheerfully.

Legolas turned. The maiden was kneeling on the earth, working in a small herb garden beside the house. "I have. It was excellent. Again, allow me to thank you."

"I am always glad to shelter a friendly traveler and offer assistance where I can," she replied while rising and brushing herself off.

"If you will pardon me, I as yet do not know to whom I owe this kindness."

Her eyes closed for a moment, and she smiled. "I'm sure you'll think me quite boorish. Forgive me. I would have done so sooner, only, I was so happy at your arrival. I had become exceedingly worried. Mithryn, I am called."

"I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, Elven King of Mirkwood," he said, bowing.

Mithryn blushed slightly. Never had she entertained such an exalted guest before. "You are most welcome here."

Legolas nodded and gazed again at her small garden. "You have an interest in herbs?"

"Yes. They are mostly medicinal." Green shoots and flowers of varying shapes and sizes swayed in the gentle breeze.

"I see some that I know." Legolas bent down and gently touched the soft petals. " _Malva_ we call this," he said, pointing to one.

"It is known to me as Mallow," Mithryn said.

Legolas smiled at her. " _Salvia_ ," he said, pointing to another.

"Sage."

" _Vinalis_."

"Speedwell," she added, smiling.

He rose. "You are a studier of herbs?"They began to walk down the same path that brought him to her. "My mother was a great healer among my people. It was she who taught me." Mithryn stopped at the edge of the path and picked some flowers with long stems. The blooms were small and white, growing in great clusters.

"Ah, I know this herb; _Ulmaria_."

"Meadowsweet. My favourite." The scent traveled far throughout her realm; 'twas the sweet scent of almond. Her dainty fingers deftly twisted and braided the vines.

"You are not an Elf," Legolas stated, perplexed, as their walk resumed.

"No," she replied, eyes and hands kept busy.

"And yet you speak Elvish. High Elvish, which is a rarity. There are few of whom I know that can speak it who are not Elves."

"My father taught me when I was a child. He insisted I learn to speak Sindarin and Quenya, but I fear I have forgotten much."

They stopped walking for a moment. Legolas found himself nestled in the forest at the foot of a towering hill. The trees were thick, but a narrow path trailed up and around the hill. Mithryn turned to him with a mischievous smile upon her face. "A humble gift, my lord," she said, holding the delicate necklet in her hands. Legolas smiled at his gift and bowed his head. She stepped forward and placed the ring of flowers over his head.

"Thank you. But please, I would ask you to call me Legolas. My father is the lord of my people, not I."

"As you wish, Legolas. Now, you may go first. Elves have lighter feet than those born of Man, I know," said Mithryn, stepping aside. Legolas hesitated, but did not feel that any amount of coaxing would change her mind. He simply nodded thankfully, and stepped lightly on to the path. It was indeed a steep climb, but did not trouble him. Occasionally, the path took them so close to the edge of the precipice that Legolas felt fear of Mithryn's safety.

"It's all right," she said comfortingly as she cautiously stepped along the sheer ledge. "Hallathúle has not pushed me off yet."

" _Hallathúle_?"

"This hillock."

"You call the hillock Tallspirit?"

"Well he is, don't you think?"

Legolas smiled. "Yes."

The trees rose with them, yet every now and then they came to a gap from which they could gaze out into the splendor of the vast horizon. From their present height, they could see just above the treetops. They smiled at each other and continued walking.

The third stage of the climb was steps, crude and steep, cut out of giant slabs of stone. The ancient, weathered rock crumbled in patches and great care was needed when climbing. "Did you mason these, yourself?" Legolas asked, thoughtfully.

"Nay, I found them as such. Whoever cut them, has long departed."

They climbed onward and upward. Mithryn's foot slipped on an unsteady stone, but Legolas's quick reflexes caught her arm swiftly. He then gently grasped her hand and did not let go when she steadied herself. Mithryn's large green eyes glanced from their hands back to his face. "Let me help you," he offered, suddenly shy. She nodded and their ascent continued.

At last the climb leveled off and they reached the top. Legolas helped her up the last step and then let go of her tiny hand. He walked about to behold his surroundings and what he saw was all magnificence. Far below them lay a green sea of leaves which swayed and rustled playfully with the wind. The immense forest reached the horizon in every direction. Far off into the distance in the north, small peaks of the Mirkwood Mountains were yet discernable. Below shone the pretty heath and Mithryn's little cottage with its chimney smoking merrily. The sun sparkled on her tiny pond that glittered like diamonds in the deep Dwarf mines. "What a splendid view! I should think every Elf in Mirkwood would wish to see this."

"During less dangerous times, I have met several Elves passing through the wood on their way to the Grey Havens. They took rest here before resuming their long journey and joyed in seeing this sight, as you do now."

"How long have you lived here so alone?" Legolas asked.

"Oh, not long...by Elven standards, anyway. I know a hundred years is but a day to you immortals," Mithryn said, cheerfully. Legolas smiled, for he knew she spoke the truth. She paused and gazed unseeing into the clear, iridescent sky. "I have resided here longer than one would think, however," she continued, now more seriously. Her eyes seemed filled with sorrowed thought.

"Mithryn, the orcs I encountered called you a witch," he stated, breaking the silence. That remark returned the smile to her face. "How is it that you knew I was coming? How did you know I was attacked by orcs? Are you a witch?" Legolas stared at her, his eyes displaying neither fear nor suspicion. They simply stared into hers, gently.

"I think we should be getting back soon," Mithryn replied. "Night is setting in."

"Can Orcs come near?"

"Nay," she said, "but climbing down Hallathúle is hazardous even in the light." Legolas nodded, and they began their descent. He thought it best to let unanswered questions lie.

He could not help but stare at her, now and then, as he helped her down the slippery slope. She was unlike any Elf-maiden or mortal he had met before. There was an inexplicable aura around her which seemed to glow; a mystic force emanating from her. He felt enchanted by her shy ways and gentle temperament. "And yet," he thought, "she shrouds herself in mystery." He marveled at how one so young and isolated could protect herself so well. The villainy which filled Mirkwood was fierce, unmerciful and savage. He knew that to survive, she must be very powerful indeed.

\- - -

The sun had set only to reveal that the velvet night possessed her own inimitable glory. Stars were in abundance and twinkled and shone down on the pair as they withdrew from the wood at last. Legolas stopped and gazed upward.

"Beautiful, are they not?" Mithryn said admiringly. "I often walk under the stars and then I do not feel quite so alone."

"Why do you live here so secluded?"

"My kinsfolk died long ago."

"What happened to them?"

Mithryn looked at him. He was standing tall, strong and powerful. "Come, let us go inside. I'll make us something warm to drink."

Inside, the fire's embers were glowing softly and were about to extinguish. Mithryn added more fuel and a bright blaze soon erupted. She hung an ancient black kettle over the crackling flames. "Are you hungry? I could prepare something."

"Nay, I am quite well." Legolas sat at the table; his eyes, like slaves, following every move she made. When the kettle was boiled and the fragrant, herbal tea poured, she finally sat with him. A smile brightened her face, but Legolas could see her brow still flexed with concern. "My people came from the Gladden Fields," she said.

"I know them. Not well; I do not often travel that way."

"Well, my mother and her kinfolk lived there a long time, as I recall. I know that they settled there after abandoning their own lands. I believe it was in danger of being over-run by Sauron's forces." She paused and shook her head. "It has been a long while since I've even thought about this; it has been many years. It is hard to remember."

Legolas's brow creased with concern. "Do not feel troubled. This tale need not be told now. I do not wish you grief."

"No, no," Mithryn assured. "I'd like to tell you." She paused. "Well, let us see. My father was a great traveler. As a child, I remember him telling me tales of his journeys. He had roamed most of his life until he traveled to the Gladden Fields. My mother was older, like him, and had never married. They fell in love and were wed that summer; I was born the following spring. I remember a few years of peace and happiness in my village. My father journeyed still, and at times was gone for many months. But, seasons would pass and he would return. I was nearly twelve years old the last time I saw him. He returned to us after being away many months, but his face looked worn and tired. He was plagued with many worries, I think. He had to leave and, soon after, we were attacked by Orcs."

"Orcs? In the Gladden Fields, you say?"

Mithryn nodded.

A memory reemerged in Legolas's mind. He had heard, for what felt to him but a short space of time, Orcs ravaging through that land. But that was long ago in the years of Men.

Mithryn continued. "I remember my mother telling me to run. I know not how they missed me. I jumped into the Anduin and hid until sunrise. Walking back to our village, I found it completely deserted. There was blood everywhere but no bodies to be found, alive or dead. The wreckage of our houses and wagons was strewn far and wide, but there was no trace of my mother. I waited there for a month, finding bits of food as I could, praying for anyone to return as I had done. But, when none returned, I knew I was on my own."  
"What did you do?"

"Orcs were still in the area and staying became perilous. I saw Mirkwood, so I headed for it. I made my way further into the forest, not knowing which way to go until, at last, I came to this little meadow. The house was abandoned, so I set up my home here, and here I have lived since."

"And how long have you been here?"

Mithryn took a deep breath. "Seventy eight winters have passed while I have lived here."

"Seventy-eight?" Legolas repeated in surprise. "Yet how is it that you have not aged? Seventy-eight years to Men is a lifetime. And yet, ninety years you say you have lived and to my eyes, you look no more than a mortal of five and twenty."

Mithryn's face grew ever more saddened. "All that you say is true, and I have found no answers to this riddle."

"Why do you not seek it out? Someone must have some answers."

"That same thought has crossed my mind many lonely hours. But time has passed by, and I have stayed still. I only venture out of my small domain to visit the west Woodland Folk who trade for my medicines. Throughout the passing years, myths and tales of me have grown, and my presence is tolerated there, I believe, simply out of fear. I travel for supplies as needed, but otherwise, where would I go?"

Legolas looked long into her virtuous face before rising and gazing out the window. "The stars and moon beckon me. With your permission, Mithryn, I wish to wander your wood and rest under the stars.""You have it, but beware. My realm only extends two miles in every direction. Nothing of evil heart may enter, but if you cross the boundary, you shall be at their mercy."

"I understand," Legolas said and he stepped out into the night. His face turned upward once more and the pale moonlight cast him in a radiant glow. He turned to her. "I cannot imagine how you have lived like this, so alone. Throughout my long life, I have always had loved ones by my side. You must be very strong of heart to live as you do."

"Alas, I have no other choice."

He nodded. "Good night, Mithryn."

"Good night, Legolas."

He shut the doors gently and wandered off into the wilderness. With mended spirits and body, he felt young and alive under the crisp, starlit sky. He walked far that night, resting in open glades, but heeded her warning. "I hope that my brothers are well. They must be greatly worried for my sake now. My poor father, how he must be suffering." It pained him to think of their sorrow. And yet, through all his troubled thoughts, his mind always returned to Mithryn.

**Author's Note:** Please kindly review!


	4. The House of King Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thanks to Arcadia for the encouraging review!  Please, if you're reading this, take a moment to share with me your thoughts!  Thank you!

**CHAPTER 4 -** **THE HOUSE OF KING THRANDUIL**

The valiant Elven warriors marched homeward with saddened hearts. Their grief was intense, but their mission crucial. The soldiers nobly carried on their shoulders the three that were slain. Their thoughts were, also, sadly bent toward Legolas and Haldof, of which there had been no further word. Tarnil and Galamed bore the heaviest hearts. Veridis had been crossed, and now they tread on safer ground. They followed the Enchanted River and stopped once more to rest before making the final stretch home and to their people.

"Tarnil," Galamed said to his brother, when finally alone, "how do we tell our father what has happened? The battle was won, but the loss was great. If Legolas and Haldof should not return... We ought to have stayed with Haldof."

"Nay, we have done our duty. We must be the ones to tell our father of Legolas."

Galamed sat by the bank, watching the reflected moon dance upon the water.

"Do not mourn yet; they shall return, Brother. Come," Tarnil said, offering Galamed his outstretched arm. He took it and Tarnil pulled his brother up. "Let us reach our father tonight."

Galamed nodded and Tarnil roused the soldiers.

The company marched onward and turned at last onto the Elf Path. The palace watch had seen the paladins coming and sent word to his lordship. Silver elven trumpets sounded calling the people forth to greet the weary warriors. Lyrical singing filled the night sky, but turned mournful upon the sight of the fallen three. King Thranduil stepped out from his great hall and crossed the lattice-laced bridge. Tarnil and Galamed stood before their father and king; their fallen heros laid at his feet. "This is a grievous loss for all our people," Thranduil said at last. He raised his arms high into the air and said: "May we forever remember the names Numilor, Gwarinth, and Fenos." He lowered his arms and began to sing. " _A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna miriel o menel aglar elenath! Na-chaered palan-diriel o galadhremmin ennorath, Nanuilos, le linnathon nef aear, si nef aearon!_ "

Elves wept with heads bowed. Thranduil spoke again to the forlorn assembly. "My soldiers, you are weary and sorrowed, but are home at last. Go now and embrace friends and family." The group began to disburse. The king then turned to Tarnil and Galamed. It was then that he first noticed the absence of Legolas and Haldof; his face fell. "Come, my sons," he said, beckoning them to follow.

They did so and entered the massive halls. The ceiling was ornately chiseled out of the mountain itself. Tall, interwoven candlesticks were lit, casting a rich warmth on the wooden chairs trimmed with sparkling filigree. Massive tapestries hung on the walls which told ancient stories of their people. Thranduil sat on his mighty throne, eyes worried. "Tell me, where is Haldof and Legolas?"

Tarnil related all to their father concerning the battle and Legolas's disappearance. Thranduil sat, head bowed, hand covering his mouth, distraught. "And you have had no word or sign of them?" he asked at last, voice faltering.

"Nay, but we have been moving fast and in the opposite direction," Tarnil said.

Thranduil nodded while trying to banish despairing thoughts from his mind."Father," Galamed said at last, "we wish to set out in search of our brother immediately."

"Are you not weary? It has been an arduous journey for you both."

"We shall find no rest until Legolas and Haldof are discovered," Tarnil said, resolutely.

"As you wish." Thranduil rose and placed a loving hand on each of their strong shoulders. "But do not leave each other's side. Of this, you must promise."

They gave their word and prepared to set off again. Elf-maidens quickly supplied them with food, arrows and horses. They bade farewell to their father, and then rode forth with anxious but hopeful hearts.

Word of the prince's disappearance spread swiftly. Legolas was a favourite among his people, and his absence was deeply felt. Elven hearts struggled to remain brave and hopeful. He was not the first of their people to go missing. They instinctively feared the worst. Laments for the fallen and missing were sung far into the dawn of the morning.

\- - -

Days passed, and still no word came. Thranduil spent many passing hours alone, shrouded in deep thought. No companionship in his kingdom could offer him any comfort. He had taken to walking under the high branches of his beloved trees, day and night. Eärendil shone and sparkled with brilliant splendor. "Is it vain to think my dear sons also turn to you for comfort this night?"

A guard approached the great king. "My lord," he said, bending on knee.

"Have you word from my sons?" the mighty king asked hastily.

"Nay, my lord. A visitor has arrived from the west and seeks audience with thee," the guard said, rising.  
"Does it concern my sons?"

"I do not think so, your lordship. It is Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"Aragorn," Thranduil repeated, mulling the news over in his brain. "Bring him to the great hall. Tell him I shall come directly."

"And of his weapons?"

"He may keep them."

The guard bowed. "Aye, my lord," and strode off toward the massive halls. Thranduil smiled. Indeed, it was his first smile since the company had departed. He turned once more to blessed Eärendil before striding to his palace.

Upon entering the hall, Thranduil was struck with amazement upon the sight of his visitor. Aragorn stood tall, cloaked in black. He looked worn, dirty, and had not dressed for attendance with a king. He held a rope in his hand, and upon the end of it was leashed a foul creature that Thranduil had never before seen. It squatted on the floor like a toad, muttering to itself, and whimpered repulsively. Its skin was stretched thin over its bones. Its eyes glowed eerily like lamps in a mist, darting about the chamber ceaselessly, searching for an escape. A foul stench arose from the creature; Aragorn did not appear to have any love for the piteous being. Thranduil approached Aragorn. They grasped each others forearm and drew close.  
"Aragorn, my dear friend. It has been long since you have graced our halls."

"Indeed, Lord Thranduil. Too long."

They smiled at each other in friendship and released their grip. Thranduil sat on his throne and called for a chair to be set for his friend. Aragorn accepted but maintained a firm handle on the rope.

"Am I to ask then, what you bring me?" Thranduil said, gesturing toward the decrepit creature.

"My lord, this is the creature Gollum, the mischief-maker. The one Gandalf the Grey and I have been searching for these sixteen years."

"Ah, yes. It has been long since we have spoken of him, and at last you have snared the beast. May I now inquire as to the reason for so great a quest? He is not much of a prize."

Aragorn sighed. "My lord, I fear I cannot tell you. This secret is not mine to share. Let it be enough that Gandalf has wished to speak with him for a long time. This creature has information which could be of vital importance to us all."

"It is unlike you Aragorn, to speak in such riddles. Very well, keep your secrets. But why bring him here?"  
"I was instructed to do so by Gandalf. He had hoped that should Gollum be found, he would be brought hither to be guarded."

Thranduil let out an annoyed huff. "Gandalf presumes a great deal! To tell me so little, Aragorn, and then to ask us to guard him! Is this all you can say to me?"

Aragorn paused in contemplation. "I do not think Gandalf would mind my saying this. May I approach your lordship and whisper it to you?"

Thranduil nodded and Aragorn stepped forward, bending to the king's ear. "Gandalf believes the One Ring may have been found." Drawing away, Aragorn again took his seat.

Thranduil's face dropped. "No," he whispered.

Gollum began to pull on his lead and moan.

"We know not for certain. That is why it is imperative that Gandalf speak with Gollum."

A hiss came from the dank, loathsome creature. "Leave, yess, my Precious," Gollum said, still tugging at the rope around his neck.

Thranduil sat and stared at the pitiful monster. "Very well, Aragorn. We shall hold him in our care."

"Thank you, my lord," Aragorn said, rising. Thranduil motioned and two Elven guards came and took the rope from Aragorn. Gollum grew fearful and let out horrible wails. He clawed at the floor with his strong fingers. The elves stood dismayed. Thranduil approached the frantic savage.

"Gollum, you will not be harmed. We hold you only for safekeeping."

Gollum, however, was not convinced. He writhed and tugged at his collar nearly choking himself. "Lets us go! Yess, Precious! _Gollum_!" The guards then dragged him away; his hysterical cries echoed through the great halls until at last all was again peaceful.

Thranduil turned again towards his guest. "Have you supped, Aragorn?"

"Nay, I have not."

Indeed? Well, you shall dine at our tables once more. Come! I shall have a room prepared."

Aragorn bathed in scented water and dressed in the fine robes provided for the company of the king. Long tables had been set under the fair night sky for their feast. Merrymaking was being made in his honor and the air permeated with sweet, Elven song. Yet, something troubled Aragorn that he could not fully grasp. Thranduil then joined him and they sat among his wise kindred.

Suddenly, Aragorn knew what was amiss. "Where are your sons, my lord? I had hoped to have the pleasure of their company as well."

"Alas, the battles of late have been great. Legolas was driven far from his kinsmen by the Orcs, and Tarnil, Galamed, and Haldof have gone in search of him."

"Aye, that is ill tiding indeed! Have you had no word since?"

Thranduil shook his head. "Nay, I fear not." They both looked over the fair faces of the Elves. They appeared merry, but a melancholy concern seemed to lie underneath their smiles. Aragorn's sharp eyes perceived this.

"I wish I could aid you in your search, Lord Thranduil, but I am long expected in Rivendell. Lord Elrond will also wish to know of Gollum's capture. I fear I must leave tomorrow."

Thranduil nodded in understanding.

"I shall keep my ear to the ground for news of Legolas and Haldof and help as I may. I shall also alert Lord Elrond of your situation."

"I can ask no more of you, my friend. But it has been good to see you. Your friendship has been of great comfort to me during this uncertain time."

Aragorn smiled. "I know not when Gandalf will hear news of Gollum, but when he does, he will surely come. Expect a visit."

Their attention was taken by a fair Elf-maiden who rose and sang. Her silvery, harmonious voice rose as others joined in her sweet, sad song. Tales and verse flowed far into the night of which Thranduil and Aragorn only half heard.

**Author's Note:** Another thanks to Arcadia for the encouraging review!  Please, if you're reading this, take a moment to share with me your thoughts!  Thank you!


	5. The Sparring Tournament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know what you think.

**CHAPTER 5 -** **THE SPARRING TOURNAMENT**

Morning came like a blissful tide, casting all Mithryn's glade with a warmth and light that streamed through her window and into her bedchamber. It was a tiny room, with an aged, wooden bed sitting against the far wall. A large stone fireplace was set upon the room's northernmost wall, with kindling neatly set beside it. A much worn, quaint old chair sat in front of the fire, which Mithryn enjoyed sitting in on cold, dark nights. Shelves filled the walls on both sides of the only window. They sat sadly bare, as Mithryn had few possessions. Some ancient books, there were, of which she could not read. The writing was strange and unknown to her. She kept them all the same and glanced through them from time to time. Her most treasured possessions of all sat upon those shelves. There was a broken lantern, a tattered doll, a wooden pipe, and a magnificent sword, all of which came from her life before, and were now the only physical remnants that it had ever existed. Over her bed hung various dried flowers which added colour to the overall drab room.

Mithryn woke and, remembering her guest, dressed quickly. She was preparing breakfast when he stepped out from the forest and approached the cottage. Legolas walked in, his mind and body now cheerful and refreshed. He sat at the old, oak table and smiled at her. "Good morrow, good Mithryn!"

"Good morrow, Legolas. You are well rested?" she asked.

"Much. I love it here. It feels like the Greenwood of my youth, before the Shadow came.

She smiled and served a breakfast of fresh gathered berries, hot biscuits, and herbal tea. "I have told you much of my life here; I wish you would now tell me of yours."

His thoughts drifted for a moment before replying. "How is one to put into words all that one has seen through the passing ages?" His eyes grew distressed. "I have lived nearly three thousand years in this wood."

"And I am but a child of ninety. Do I seem like a child to you?"

Legolas smiled. "In some ways, yes. In others..." He shook his head. "No. You seem wise beyond your years. There is more to you than what the eye can see."

"Even Elven eyes?"

A smile spread onto his lips. "Yes."

When breakfast was complete, they sat neath the weeping willow beside the glistening pond. Legolas was content, yet a stone still lay buried in his heart. Mithryn sensed his sorrow. "You are troubled. Can you not cast it off and have peace? What is it that plagues your mind so?"

"The Age of my people is waning. Our time here is coming to an end. More and more sail forth, never to return. I am grieved for my heart still lies hither; I do not wish to go."

"But this departure is not for some time, is it not?"

"To Elves it is very near. How many more years shall we live under our ancient, familiar boughs? As you have said, a hundred years to an elf is but a day. The hour draws nigh. All is coming to an end."

Mithryn gently touched his hand resting on the grass. "Think of it no more, for there is naught you can do. The future is mystery that none can fully see. Heed my words; I know." Legolas's affliction, however, could not be cast down. Mithryn tried once more. "Would you care to go for a walk? I have someone for you to meet," She said, eyes twinkling.

"Someone for me to meet?"

Mithryn nodded and they strode southward into the forest. To their right the cliffs towered, and to their left flowed rolling hills of endless trees. A spirited breeze blew about them and played with their hair. Upon walking farther into the wood, Legolas could see another vale upon which the sun streamed down like a giant fountain. On this dale, soft clover grew and its purple flowers sweetened the warm air. Prancing about merrily was a strong mare. Her sienna coat shone as she neighed and trotted over to Mithryn. The horse rested her massive head on Mithryn's sloped shoulder.

"Oh, you coy thing!" Mithryn teased. "Legolas, this is Anfalas."

Legolas touched the horse gently down her neck with his fingertips while he whispered elvish words softly in her right ear. She reared her immense head and gazed at him with her large brown eyes. "She is a beauty," Legolas said. "How did you acquire her?"

"Eight years ago I was wandering through the wood when I came upon her. She was naught but skin and bones, and past weary. With loving care, she is now restored. Although free to come and go as she pleases, she has stayed with me hence. She has been a great companion for me."

"She is a horse from Rohan. There they breed the mightiest steeds in all Middle Earth."

Legolas and Mithryn rested in the sunny spot, as did Anfalas who nudged Mithryn's back lovingly with her muzzle. Birds chirped and happily joined them.

"You asked if I am a witch." Mithryn stated. Legolas gazed at her, not wishing to press for answers.  
"The truth is," she continued, "I know not what I am. The magic, if magic it is, has been with me for as long as I can remember. I recall when I was a child my father comforting me after having nightmarish dreams. At least, they began as dreams, and came to me at night. Now these...visions...can strike at any moment."  
"Of what do you see?"

"I see...distant lands. I see people in pain. I see danger. I see torment. I see death." She paused and lingered in thought. "Through the years, I have mastered my ability to discern when these events are to take place. When the vision comes upon me, the greater the pain, the nearer the event is in the future. Little pain, it shall not happen for perhaps decades."

"And you foresaw my coming?"

"Aye. A vision came to me four days past. The pain was great. I saw you attacked by a band of orcs and separated from your party. I also foresaw you sitting here, with me. But the future is alterable, and one seemingly minor event can change the course for all. I was worried as to whether you would arrive safely."  
"Are you greatly tormented by the things which you have seen?" he asked, concerned.

"The greatest torment is to know, and have naught to send in aid. I have lived long in seclusion and hiding." She paused; her face grew pink. "In truth, I am ashamed. I have ignored what I have seen, pretending there was nothing I could do. That is, of course, a lie. I could have aided to their plight. I should have gone, but have not. That is something that has haunted me. Yet, I am afraid."

Legolas could feel her grief. He felt anguish himself. A tear rolled down her face. He placed a gentle finger on her soft cheek, wiping away the salty tear. He could find no words. His quiet strength eased her cares and stopped her tears. She smiled.

Two days passed, and Legolas remained. Mithryn wondered at this, but said nothing. She felt easy in his company and perceived a curious sensation when he was near. Legolas pondered at his extended stay as well. He knew his kinsfolk would worry about his welfare, but felt drawn to stay near Mithryn. He found that when he woke at dawn, his first thoughts flew towards her. "She has a smile," he thought, "that eases sorrow merely upon its arrival. I feel strong when she is near, yet my soul seems to tremble. What spell has she cast over me?"

With the passing days, they had taken to enjoying luncheon at the summit of Hallathúle. When finished his cheese and buttered rolls, Legolas said, "You never told me how you guard your realm so well."

A mischievous smile crept onto her face. "Ah. The fire."

"Yes. How do you do it?"

"At first, I was greatly troubled by the Orcs here about. They could sense my presence. It was some time before I contemplated fighting them back with the very thing they could never understand."

"What?"

"Love. I cast a living, breathing...spell, I guess you could call it. I poured all the love in my heart into it. The love of my kinfolk, my mother, my father, my new home here, the trees, the birds, everything. And through my love, comes a great passion to protect it. The power is emanating through me. That is why none of evil heart may enter. They cannot bear to feel love."

Legolas understood that very well. He carried the same passion for protecting his home and his people. "Does it not fatigue you?"

"Only when I excessively use other magic."

"What other magic?"

The impish grin reappeared. "Oh, sometimes I'll meet an Orc on my way to or from the Woodland Folk. Afterward, they are very sorry they ever crossed paths with me. I know I do not look like much, but they soon discover otherwise."

"Will you show me?"

"How?" she asked, eyes dancing playfully.

"We can spar. Have you a blade?"

"I do."

"My blade against yours."

A merry laugh escaped her. "Very well."

And so the sparring tournament began beside her home. They would combat to judge skill. Legolas brought forth his weapons, which for the past few days had been left neglected by the door. He withdrew his knife. The sharp edge sparkled in the sunlight.

Mithryn also fetched her blade. The sword was stout but the proper size for Mithryn's physique. Legolas immediately recognized the craftsmanship of his people. "May I see it?"

She handed it to him. Legolas held the glittering weapon, eyes sparkling. It's handle shone of mithril; its three tips of the hilt curled as a flame. "I call her Gilóre," Mithryn said.

Legolas smiled. "Starheart. It is Elven made," he said, studying it closely.

"I thought as much."

"Where did you find this?"

"My father brought it back for me from one of his adventures. He always said to keep it hidden out of sight, neath the floor. I am very thankful those horrid orcs did not find it when our village was attacked."  
Delicate, flowing Elvish script was written across the hilt. Legolas ran his fingers over the cold, mithril letters. "It is old, of the second age.""Can you read the words? I have never been able to," she said.  
"It reads: 'Behold the Flame of Truth.' It is exquisite!"

Legolas handed it back to Mithryn. When placed in her small, white hand, a warm glow began to protrude from the blade. It burst into a golden flame which projected outwards as if the sword itself were on fire. Legolas gazed at its magnificence.

"Behold the Flame of Truth," he said, eyes enchanted.

"Shall we begin?" Mithryn asked. Legolas nodded his reply.

Swords raised, the dual began. Mithryn swung first with a flash of fire, and a clash of metal. Legolas struck next. Mithryn thought his movements slow, calculated. She suspected that he was restraining great strength and speed. Her eyes sparkled and the dance of flame continued. Her amusement did not go unnoticed.  
"Your skill is admirable," he said while wheeling his blade about. "And yet, I suspect you are holding back. Is it true?"

Mithryn's eyes danced. "Yes," she said, laughing. "And you?"

"Yes," he said, and both let their blades fall to their sides in resolution. Mithryn placed Gilóre back in her sheath, and the fire extinguished.

"And what of your magic? Will you not show me?" enquired Legolas as he returned his knife to its casing.  
"It is too dangerous to use on you, but I will show you some if you wish." She placed Gilóre on the ground in front him. Mithryn walked a distance back and raised her right hand and in a flash, the sword flew from the ground and into Legolas's hand. She smiled, now feeling slightly embarrassed. "It is not much."  
"Nay, that was excellent! What else?"

"Well..." She again held out her right hand and the sword was suddenly wrenched out of Legolas's grip and flew into her clutch.

Legolas approached her and smiled. "Splendid."

Mithryn smiled back. "But that which causes most fear in orcs," she said, "is this." She clenched her small, right hand into a tight fist. She then blew on it and slowly opened her hand. There sat a golden ball of flame.  
"Does it not burn?"

"If I were to release it, it would." She blew on it again and the flame went out. She stretched out her hand again, and his weapon's case sailed from the earth into her tiny hand. "Now, a bow and arrow, I have never used. Is it difficult?"

Legolas took the case, withdrew his bow and stepped close beside her. "No. I will teach you. Grasp the bow handle tightly."

She did as he commanded. "Like this?"

"Yes. Now, hold the arrow securely. That is correct. Now, pull the string back as far as you can and release."

She grasped the bow, pulled back the string and let the arrow go. It flew to the ground two feet from where she stood and missed her aim (which was the door) by twenty feet.

"If I could use magic, I'm sure it would reach the door," she said lightheartedly.

"No, no," he said, amused. "There is no magic when using a bow and arrow. Only skill."

He drew up close behind her; his left hand gently atop of hers, while holding the bow in place. She could feel the heat of his arm beside hers. His strong chest pressed lightly against her back; his warm breath caressed her exposed neck. She dared not move, else he would as well. Her heart began to pound in her chest; "Can he hear it?" she wondered. With his right hand, Legolas took another arrow and laid it across the bow. With masterful skill, he pulled tight and let the arrow fly. It wedged itself deep in the wood of the door.

Mithryn smiled at his skill, and turned and looked back at him. Their eyes met. Legolas then realized his arms were around her. He felt he should move away, but could not. Mithryn's smile faded. Legolas slowly bent his head down and kissed her.

The love for which an Elf feels for the first and only time cannot be measured or expressed adequately in words. Elven hearts are never capricious or inconstant. Once their heart is given, there is no return. There is no other.

Their lips softly touched, only to evoke the want of another kiss. Legolas drew her close. His bow fell lightly to the ground. When at last their lips separated, she rested her dizzy head on his muscular chest; their arms tightly wrapped around one another. For her too, there could be no other.

They sat in silence a long time that evening. Mithryn knew he would have to leave soon. Indeed, he had lingered long already. She had no illusions; he might never be permitted to return. Legolas's thoughts were also bent upon his imminent departure. A shadow of sorrow cast itself over his heart. "I must leave tomorrow," he said finally, breaking the silence.

Mithryn looked at him with saddened eyes. She nodded. She could not deny him his duties. He reached across the table and gently held her hands. His touch was soft, warm, and electrifying. His face melancholy, yet hopeful. It brought some peace to her saddened heart.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think.


	6. Riddles in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am starting to get a little discouraged by the lack of reviews...  If you are reading, please drop me a line!!!

**CHAPTER 6 -** **RIDDLES IN THE DARK**

It was true that none were to blame for Legolas's disappearance save the orcs. None were to blame, yet Haldof blamed himself entirely. Through the passing days and nights, alone in the wilderness, his memories consumed him.

He remembered his own words vividly. "We should attack now and charge at them with full force." He also recalled Legolas's cautionary reply. "Nay, that would be leaving our backs to the enemy. They could flank us."

Haldof shook his head. "I asked him to trust me, and I betrayed that. What have I done?"

He had returned to the scene of their battle and discovered that the surviving Orcs had scattered and spread in large groups. At first, he knew not which to follow and, therefore, chose randomly. When realizing his error, he was forced to track a new band which led him nowhere again. Despair had begun to set in.

Yet, upon the fifth night following the battle, a first glimmer of hope broke its way in through the murky gloom that had fallen over Haldof. He had been resting in the high branches of a tree when the distinct sound of horse hoofs could be heard approaching from the north. He slid silently down the trunk and stood on the lowest branch which afforded the best concealment. Peering out, he saw two white Elven ponies approach with fair Elven riders. It was Tarnil and Galamed. Haldof smiled and his grief lessened. He had not expected to see his two brothers so soon.

The horses stopped under the tree. Galamed dismounted and surveyed the ground. "Orcs have been this way some days past. Alas, I know not if either Haldof or Legolas were amongst them."  
Tarnil merely shook his head in disappointment. "We should have followed the other Orc trail."

Suddenly, Galamed felt a rush of wind from behind. Tarnil and he reacted quickly, arming their weapons, only to see Haldof standing beside the trunk of the tree.

"Haldof!" Galamed was quick to embrace him. Tarnil leapt off his steed and joined them.

"We feared we would not find you," Tarnil added when they finally separated.

"I presume it is too much to hope that Legolas is here?" asked Galamed.

Haldof's face grew melancholy once more. "Sadly, it is." He told them of his futile efforts to find their brother.

Tarnil nodded. "The Orcs have been busy, we have seen. They disbursed far and wide. It is good fortune indeed we have met, thus. I fear for Legolas, however."

"Have you been following this Orc trail?" Galamed asked as he knelt once more to the disturbed earth, searching for the faintest sign of Legolas.

"Since yesterday's morn," replied Haldof.

Tarnil was eager to step in. "Have you reason to believe that Legolas went this way?"

Haldof's gaze lowered and avoided their eyes. "Nay. Truth be told, I have found no evidence of him being taken or slain. Had he escaped, I believe he would have masked his trail as best he could." He sighed. "I have neither seen nor heard anything that would give me hope to believe that he is still safe."

Tarnil and Galamed were pained at his words. Tarnil was the first to recover from the onslaught of sinking discouragement. He placed a strong hand on his brother's shoulder. "You have borne this pain alone, Haldof, but no more! Hope is not yet lost. Eventide is upon us, therefore, let us resume our search tomorrow."

Haldof gazed at him and smiled. "He is much like Father," he mused to himself. The smile quickly faded. "Father! How did he bear this ill news?" he asked.

"Not well," Galamed said. "He worries much, as do all our kin."

Haldof's eyes grew dark; guilt made them so. He feared his father's blame for his most serious ill judgement.

They slept on the ground near the horses under the shroud of trees and brush. Throughout the night they each took turns with a watch. Haldof was much heartened by his brothers' glad company.

Three days passed, and they grew ever more frustrated. The thick, stuffy air bothered them greatly. Trails proved fruitless, and they felt ever more daunted, wandering and tracking with no results to aid them. Haldof, who was the most skilled at tracking, remained on foot as Tarnil and Galamed rode.

It was midday, and Tarnil and Haldof were pondering over some Orc tracks when Galamed's cry called them. "Brothers! Come hither!"

Tarnil and Haldof sprinted to where their brother stood. On the ground lay three dead Wargs and a decapitated Orc. The Wargs had each been shot with Elven arrows. A foul, decomposing stench polluted the air. Galamed's face filled with woe. This evidence did not bode well for Legolas. Haldof sank to the ground in horrified resignation; his long, lean body folded up in sorrow. Tarnil was the only one to keep a clear head. He placed his sleeve over his nose and leaned over the bodies, eying them carefully. "They appear to be dead at least three days. All is not yet lost."

Haldof gazed up at him with pity. "You really believe so, Brother? I fear you dream."

"His body is not here! He may be alive yet!" Tarnil's faith in Legolas's return was not yet lost.

"Need I remind you what cursed things Orcs do to the bodies of our taken, Brother? You know of what I speak. Three days passed...he was hunted by Orcs and Wargs. I fear you think him alive merely because you wish to."

Tarnil's face grimaced. "I cannot believe the worst, Haldof. It is simply too terrible."

A silence fell. Galamed, who had surrendered into muted contemplation, at last spoke. "What then are we to do? If dead he is, it is unlikely his body shall ever be found."

"I say we return to our father," Haldof said, resolutely.

"You would abandon him?" asked Tarnil.

"Nay, we must merely accept the inevitable. How many that are taken return to us? We have searched every trail and found nothing. If he was captured and is alive, surely he would have left us some shred of hope along his path. I do not believe he is lost because I wish to, Tarnil. I simply state what my heart tells me."

Tarnil shook his head; his eyes began to fill with tears.

Galamed again spoke. "So, what are we to do?"

King Thranduil passed the days in contemplative thought. Aragorn, his friend, had left and another had come in his stead. Gandalf the Grey, of whom the elves call Mithrandir, arrived having heard news of Gollum's capture from Lórien. He grieved at the news of Thranduil's woe, but imperative concerns and responsibilities could not be ignored. He quickly set to work questioning the captive. Long hours passed wearily in the deep, dark cell. It was on such a day that Gandalf prodded and pestered the prisoner for answers to his riddles, yet again.

"I do not believe you, Gollum! I want you to now speak the truth!" Gandalf's voice was stern and commanding, while pacing the dank cell.

Gollum squatted in his corner, muttering and cursing under his foul breath. "It doesn't know nothing, precious," he spit. "Precious was a birthday present to us, it was, _gollum_."

"A birthday present?" asked Gandalf, skeptical of this new crumb of information. "From whom? Who gave you this birthday present?"

"Granny gaves it to us, she did. Yesss."

Galdalf let out a loud huff and stood, towering over the cowering Gollum. "I grow weary of your tall tales!" Gandalf held his staff and from its tip glowed a bright, white light.

Gollum wailed and cried, cursed and trembled with fury. "It's cruel!" he sobbed as Galdalf's radiant light went out. "It's cruel to us!"

"Now, Gollum, you shall tell me where you found the precious, else I light my staff again."

"No!" Gollum wailed, bony hands tugging at Galdalf's great robes. "We founds it, we did, precious."

"Where? Where did you find it?"

**" _Gollums"_** escaped the creature but he refused to answer Gandalf's question. He rubbed his long hands, licking his fingers. "Cruel, it iss. _**Gollum**_. It is my own, my preciouss."

Gandalf's rod was quickly relit. Gollum let out more hateful cries. Galdalf, however, was resolute. "Tell me, Gollum! Where did you find the precious?!"

Gollum desperately tried to cover his large eyes from the blinding light, but to no avail. "It burns us, it does! Turns off the light and we tells it!"

"I think not. You tell me, and then the light shall go out."

Gollum let out more resentful howls, before saying: "In the river we founds it."

"River? Which river?" Gandalf demanded. No reply did Gollum give except for the mutters and whimpers. "Which river, Gollum, or my light shall grow brighter!"

"Nooo! By the Gladden Fieldses, we founds it. It burns usss!"

Gandalf stood shocked, and the light faded until all was again somber. Gollum crawled to the darkest corner and licked his fingers. Gandalf closed and locked the door, then made his way out of the dungeons. Echoing **" _gollums_ "** could be heard resounding through the halls.

Gandalf sat with the king in his private study, and they ate by the crackling fire. Candles flickered, and a servant placed his silver tray silently upon the table, and quietly slipped out.

"Gollum is an repulsive beast, and yet, I pity him," Thranduil said.

"I, too, pity him; but, alas, I fear he can still do much damage. His heart is black with hate," Gandalf replied, after drinking some wine.

"Do you truly believe he held the One Ring for all those years?"

"I know not for certain. If he speaks the truth of where he found it, it is possible. Isildur met his fate in the Gladden Fields. It is possible." Gandalf sighed. "I have yet to uncover what mischievous deeds he was up to, however." He began to smoke his long pipe.

"You speak of where Aragorn found him, I assume...the Dead Marshes," and Thranduil shook his head. "It does not bode well, Mithrandir. You know what lies near that land. If it was, indeed, the One Ring he carried, then that is dangerous power for a mischief-maker."

"Alas, I fear you are correct."

"You believe him tortured by the Enemy?"

"I do," Gandalf said, eyes staring at the dying embers on the hearth.

"And what do you think he told them?"

Gandalf took deep breaths from his pipe, letting the smoke cloud and disburse. "Everything," he said at last.

The following day, Gandalf attempted once more to fill in the missing pieces to the puzzle that Gollum held secret. Gollum was not happy to see the wizard once more. Upon the door opening, he let out multiple mutters and curses.

"It should leaves us alone, yesss, precious. We have told it lots and lots!"

Gandalf, however, felt that he would be best to judge that. He sat in his chair in the doorway, staff in hand. Gollum knelt on the floor, rubbing his hands, many a **" _gollum_ "** in his throat.

"Now, Gollum, what happened in the Misty Mountains?"

"Orcses lives in the mountains, yess, precious. Many nasty Goblinses."

"Now, you know I am not referring to the Orcs. Tell me of the name Baggins."

That name sent Gollum into a wild fury. "Curse it! Curse it! _Gollum!_ " He sat and rocked back and forth, muttering curses under his breath, but did not answer.

"Gollum, you will tell me," Gandalf said sternly. Gollum, however, ignored him and would not answer. "Do you wish to feel the light of my staff again?" Gandalf warned, firmly grasping the handle.

"No, we doesn't! Curse it! My preciouss! Cruel, cruel it is!"  
"Cruel I shall be unless your riddles cease!" Gandalf said. "Now, tell me of the name Baggins."

"Thieving, sneaking cheats it did. Yes, my precious. Curse it!"

"How did Baggins cheat you?"

"We plays a game, we did, and it cheatses! It stole my precious, **_gollum!_ "**

"Game? What sort of game?"

"We played riddles, we did, and it cheatses! What has it got in its pocketses? It wouldn't say, no precious. Little cheat. Not a fair question. It cheated first, it did. It broke the rules. We ought to have squeezed it, yes precious. And we will, precious!"

Gandalf sat, dismayed. Bilbo's tale was now confirmed. Gandalf's greatest fear was taking form. "Gollum, what were you doing in The Dead Marshes?"

Gollum, however, did not appear to hear him. He muttered to himself, rubbing his hands together. "Baggins will pay, yes, my preciousss. It will pay for its trickses, **_gollum!_ "**

Galdalf repeated his question, but Gollum ignored him still.

"We now has friends, we does. We will teach the dirty thief some thingses, precious. We do have good and strong friends now, _**gollum!**_ They will teach the dirty little Baggins a thing or two, my preciousss."

Gandalf merely sat in awe and could only guess to what depth Gollum's treachery sank. His heart wept for the miserable wretch, but was ever aware of how strong and dangerous he still was. There was no limit to the creature's sinister ambitions where his Precious was concerned, and Galdalf knew it.

Thranduil stood under starlight. A half moon hung lazily in the sky while crickets hummed their nightly tune. Gandalf was admitted to the king's presence to bid his farewell.

"I am grieved to see you leave, old friend," Thranduil said.

"As am I to depart, yet, necessity commands it."

"Where does necessity call you, Mithrandir?"

"Gollum's riddles do not satisfy me. I require further proof. I am off to Minas Tirith where, with hope, some answers may be gained," Gandalf said as a comely Elf-maiden brought forth his steed. "I have hope yet, that should my fears prove true, with time, a cure may be found for him. I look to your wise judgement in keeping him now, King Thranduil."

"Worry not, as we shall take great care. Fare thee well, Mithrandir! May you find the answers which you seek."

"Thank you, King Thranduil." He gazed deeply into the crystal blue eyes of the mighty elven king. His voice then fell soft and warm. "Do not mourn Legolas, yet. I feel in my heart he is not as lost as you fear."

Thranduil nodded, but alas, he did not feel it in his own sad heart. Gandalf then mounted his horse and galloped swiftly into the shadowy night. Thranduil stepped onto the lattice-laced bridge and listened to the soft murmur of the gentle river. He was about to return to his halls when the sound of hooves fast approaching caught his attention. His first thought was that his guest had returned, but as the sound grew, Thranduil saw his three sons riding forth. Tarnil and Galamed shared a pony, while Haldof rode alone on the other. Yet, nowhere was Legolas to be seen. The king's face fell. The horses stopped, and the Princes dismounted. They stood before their father and king, defeated, for Legolas had not been discovered and was now believed to be irretrievably lost. The truth of this was felt by examining their worn faces. Thranduil merely bowed his head, turned, and entered his barren great hall.

**Author's Note:** Am starting to get a little discouraged by the lack of reviews...  If you are reading, please drop me a line!!!


	7. Blood and Blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know if you like!  I always respond, so if you'd like to chat, drop me a line, and let me know what you think of where the story's going!

**CHAPTER 7 -** **BLOOD AND BLADES**

A new dawn rose behind the majestic Hallathúle, and Legolas readied himself for his trek back to his family. Mithryn brought forth his weapons as well as a green sack which held fresh provisions, enough to last him his journey home. Securing the sack over his shoulder, he next slipped his arm through his harness and Mithryn adoringly fastened the glistening silver buckle on his chest. Gazing up at him, she reached up on her toes and kissed him.

They held hands as they walked to her easternmost boundary, but no words were said. Grief was foremost on their minds and faces. When at last the boundary was reached, Legolas took both her hands with his. She smiled softly into his pensive face; she had surrendered to the fact that fate was not their ally, and it shattered all her hopes.

"I shall return within a month's time," he said with surety.

Mithryn merely smiled and nodded. She had no doubt of his sincerely or honest heart, but did not believe his father would allow him to return. Legolas leaned in close and kissed her gently. Sensing her breaking heart, he held her close, securely, wishing time would cease and be still so that they could have this moment forever. With desperation, she fought to control her tears, but to no avail. Her head rested on his chest; she could hear his heart beat from within.

He placed his loving hands on her head, and tilted it upwards until her eyes met his gaze. His face was serious; his eyes sharp and unyielding. "I have never known how to use eloquent words. I know not how to adequately express all that is in my heart." His eyes rose to the sky, searching for the right words buried deep. "You are my only love. Know that, for me, there shall never be another." A tear welled in his eye.

Mithryn's whole soul leaped, soared, and was crushed all in the same moment. Her only reply was: "Nor could there ever be another for me."

They held each other tightly a long while until finally, no more time could be spared. He at last pulled away and reluctantly stepped once again in to the dark, murky land. He steadily moved east, glancing back now and then to see her standing in warmth and light, until at last, she could be seen no more. A mournful shadow fell over him.

It was a lonely walk back for Mithryn. Her cottage seemed now sadly desolate to her. Sitting by the sparkling pond, she hummed the ancient tune of Lúthien Tinúviel, but it brought her little comfort. She had become accustomed to isolation and had passed the long years merrily enough, but there was now a hole in her soul to which Legolas was the only cure. She longed for company. Anfalas, perceiving her lady's sorrowful heart, trotted to her and affectionately nudged Mithryn's head with her muzzle.

"How did you know, dearest?" Mithryn said, as she reached back and stroked Anfalas' long face.

The great sun once again made its descent in the west. Mithryn's face, however, was irresistibly drawn eastward as if to a greater sun, as she stood on the peak of Hallathúle. She wondered if he, at times, turned and gazed west and thought of her.

A chill was in the air that night. She lit a fire in her bedchamber and curled up in her great, cozy chair. Thinking it best to keep her hands and mind busy, she mended worn table linen. Try as she might, she could not banish Legolas from her thoughts. He was so near, yet, so distant. Thinking of what would never come to be, burned her very soul.

Without warning, a searing pain began to grow in her temple and quickly spread across her brain. Her hands abandoned the sewing and cradled her throbbing head. The seething pain ripped through her skull like a knife. She cried out, and then the vision came. Mithryn's eyes flashed open and the pain died away. The room, however, turned about her in great whirls. "Legolas," she whispered. She ran to the door and gazed out into the moonless night.

Legolas had felt them all day, the Orcs; they were close. When the sun set, he decided it best not to halt for rest. He would have a head start, and if he journeyed all the next day, with luck, he would reach the forest edge by the morrow's nightfall.

The Orcs, however, had a plan of their own. They had set up camp near the witch's lair, and many were scattered hesitantly close to the boundary, watching, waiting for the Elf's departure. He'd have distance between them, oh yes, and they'd have a good job finding him too, sneaky Elf. But Ugnúl did not worry much. He knew he and the Elf would again meet.

"This is idiocy, Ugnúl!" said Lâsh, the three fingered Orc.

"He cannot linger long," replied Ugnúl. "We will wait."

"No, you will wait! We have tired of this fruitless hunt. The rest of us are..."

But the great beast could not finish his sentence. Ugnúl was on him in a flash, his sword pressed against Lâsh's throat. Ugnúl smiled and slowly pulled the stained blade; it cut slightly and black filth oozed out. Lâsh winced in pain; the two Orcs glared at each other.

"We wait," Ugnúl said at last.

Legolas's eyes were alert in the dark depths of the forest. An Orc arrow whizzed past his head, narrowly missing his ear. He returned fire with his own arrows, but failed to see precisely where his enemies were. His Elven War-Masters had trained him to return blind fire at precisely the same angle; the great roar of pain told him he had hit his mark. Legolas knew that escape would be difficult. They would not let him slip through their fingers a second time.

With speed and might, the Orcs made a wide circle, surrounding him. He drew his knife and made the attack. Three Orcs were quickly slain, and yet, the gap filled in. Five, six, seven had he killed, but the circle drew tighter until Ugnúl stepped out. His eyes glared with evil redemption as he brandished his foul sword and charged. "This I have long waited for," Ugnúl spat. "This sport you have long denied me, but no more, you slippery worm. Your time has come."

The Orc charged hard. Legolas ducked, wielded his own blade over his head, slicing Ugnúl across the arm; he did not falter, but swung hard and brutal, metal clashing against metal. A hardened elbow sent Legolas stumbling backward, narrowly missing a fatal stab of Ugnúl's sword. The other Orcs hung back, maintaining the ring; they knew better than to disturb Ugnúl's fun. Legolas darted about, but could not escape a lunge and blow of Ugnúl's massive body. He was knocked to the ground hard and Ugnúl's blade met Legolas's flesh, slicing open his right side. Ugnúl stood back and let out a sinister laugh. Shaken, Legolas gazed down at the bloody gash, and a strange sensation came over him; his head felt unusually light and began to spin.

"Feel a wee bit odd, do you?" Ugnúl asked, maliciously. "Yes, that would be the poison. It does sting a bit, don't it?" The surrounding Orcs joined in the wicked snickering.

Legolas said naught, desperately trying to retain his strength and wits. He gripped his knife as tightly as he could in his weakening hand.

"Shall we kill the beast now, or watch it slowly die?" Ugnúl asked his rogues.

"No, killing him all the sooner would spoil our long expected sport!" an Orc replied. "I say we slice him some more." He smiled wickedly to reveal a blackened mouth with yellowed, rotting teeth.

"I loathe Elven eyes!" another called out. "They glow so brightly. Let us see if they grow brighter still when we remove them from their sockets."

Their hoarse laughter was interrupted when a celestial, white light broke swiftly through the severe darkness. They cowered back, shielding their eyes from the painful, glorious illumination. Legolas first thought death was upon him, only to realize he saw Mithryn riding Anfalas. A wreath of light danced about her, while aloft in her left hand she held Gilóre, burning with righteous fervor. The Orcs scattered and ran, shouting: "The witch! The witch has come!"

Mithryn stretched her right arm down to Legolas, and said: "You do not dream. Grab hold!" Legolas grasped her arm, and rose climbing on Anfalas, his knife still clenched in his hand.

"Haste, Anfalas!" Mithryn called and the noble horse shot out with swift response. As a steed of Rohan, her speed would have been faster, but for the trees. Ugnúl, in furious rage, followed the light at an accelerated run. Legolas's remaining strength seemed to deteriorate and he barely clung to Mithryn; his head, unable to be held up any longer, drooped and laid rest upon Mithryn's back. He was growing weaker by the moment.

They raced through the forest, but Ugnúl remained close behind. At last the boundary came and Anfalas leapt over it; she stopped to a halt on the other side. Mithryn turned Anfalas about, only to see Ugnúl standing there, seething in rage. Without a word, Mithryn whirled Anfalas about and headed for home.

The two miles were quickly passed and home was soon reached. Mithryn dismounted and helped the semi-conscious Legolas down from Anfalas. His feet touched the ground but his body fell lightly onto Mithryn; he could not hold himself up. His knife toppled to the ground with a thud. She led him into her bedchamber and laid him onto her bed. He appeared to already be in a disturbed sleep, eyes closed tightly; his blood gushed from the ugly wound in his side. Her hands shook with nervous concern.

"Think, Mithryn! Think!" she commanded herself. Then, without another moment's hesitation, using her gentle touch, she quickly removed his weapons harness; tossing it onto the floor. With unsure, trembling fingers, she unbuttoned his waistcoat to reveal his naked chest; it heaved up and down with great, hoarse breaths. She gingerly pulled down the sleeves while he tossed in uneasy sleep.

She stretched out her hand and the linen, which she had been mending, shot into her hand. She pressed it onto his wound; the white cloth darkening with his warm, red blood. The fire had gone out. With a wave of her hand, a log flew into the fireplace. In one fluid motion, she clenched her fist, blew upon it, opened it to reveal a golden ball of flame. With an easy throw, she tossed the fireball at the fireplace, and the log burst into flames.

She hurried outside, knelt by her herb garden, and swiftly looked over her various herbs before eying the one she wanted.

"Ah, Lady's Mantle!" She picked off several kidney shaped leaves and yellow blooms. Returning to her kitchen, she quickly rinsed off the cuttings, and, with her wooden rolling pin, crushed them into a pulp. Upon returning to Legolas she discovered the linen bandage quite soaked through with blood. She gently placed the herbal pulp on his wound. The kettle was soon boiled; she doused a fresh cloth into it, and let it cool a little before placing it firmly on his naked skin. She pulled her quilted blanked over him, and eyed him with loving concern. Several times during the night, she boiled more water, collected more Lady's Mantle, and changed his dressing, until at last, when he slept more peacefully, she submitted to weary sleep by the fire.

The morning sunlight peeked through her bedroom window and woke her. In a flash, she recalled all the night's events and rushed to Legolas's side. The night had not gone well for him. While the bleeding had ceased, his wound closed over and showed signs of festering under the flesh. Legolas's breaths now came in rasping gasps. She forcefully spoon-fed him one of her medicines that would clear his body of toxins. He still did not improve.

Bravely, Mithryn rose and fetched her small knife and a ceramic bowl. She felt the wound; it burned at the touch. Taking a deep breath, she held the bowl below the wound, and using the knife, cautiously sliced the injury back open. Legolas cried out and Mithryn, startled, dropped the knife. She laid her hand on his forehead, and with her other, gently squeezed the lacerate. Fetid, green ooze seeped out of the sliced flesh, and slowly trickled into the cold bowl. When none remained, she set the bowl aside. Taking another deep breath, she clenched her fist tightly, blew on it, and opened it to reveal, not a golden, but, a violet fire floating in her palm. With ease and ability, she turned her small hand over and applied it directly to the wound. With closed eyes, she used every ounce of power until, at last, she felt drained and exhausted. She tried to maintain her vigilance, but, finally succumbed on the edge of the bed and did not wake until well after the sun had set.

All was dark when at last her eyes opened. She hurried about, setting a fire, then checking on her patient. He was sleeping well; his breathing had returned to normal, the wound closed properly, and showed no signs of sepsis. She arranged his blankets with an eye to his comfort, then cheerfully prepared a herbal broth for when he would wake.

It was not until the next morning that Legolas's eyes finally opened. Confusion clouded his mind until, at last, he saw his love's friendly, smiling face. He tried to rise up, but, unable to, fell back as he was very weak.

"I do not think you ready to rise yet, Legolas," Mithryn said lovingly, as she sat next to him on the bed.

He urged her to tell him all until finally, she relented. Upon hearing the entire tale, he sat back in profound, concentrated thought.

"Legolas, what troubles you?" she inquired.

Legolas sighed. "I would not wish you in harms way. It was too dangerous. You ought not have attempted it for my sake."

"I could not refuse what I saw, nor what I felt. If you knew me to be in danger, would you come to my aid?"

Legolas gazed up at her. "In a moment."

"Precisely. Therefore, you cannot reproach me for having done as much. For what life would I have now, without you?" He smiled, and gave up his argument, for he knew, in his present state, he could not win. She cradled his weak hand tenderly in hers.

The next few days passed, and with them, Legolas grew stronger. He could walk with her aid, but then, only slowly and with great care. Of his wound, only that of a thin scar, nearly four inches long, remained; Mithryn believed it would not fade with the passing ages. The wound itself, however, had completely healed. Legolas was now suffering merely the pain of poison permeated in his blood stream, and of which, Mithryn was working to remove. Time, she was certain, would heal all.

In actuality, two weeks were needed until Legolas found himself fully mended. He had now been absent from his home for over a month. He was certain that he was sorely missed, and said as much one afternoon while atop Hallathúle. "They must worry greatly. It pains me to think of what they must be enduring. Yet, I am reluctant to leave you."

Mithryn bore all with a heavy heart. Every passing moment of the weeks she had been given, she had seen as a gift and she was thankful for the time they had together, even though she believed it to be their last. She would not let on how much she was tormented by his imminent parting. "Do not be grieved. I have long expected your departure. I look forward to your return," she smiled, though she did not believe it.

Legolas gazed at her strong face, but saw through her as though her resolute mask was but a pane of transparent glass. "You misunderstand me. I wish you to come with me to North Mirkwood. I cannot bear the thought of you here, so alone, any longer. Will you come with me?" he asked with timorous eyes.

Mithryn sat shocked. She had not expected such a reply. What did his words mean? Surely, they could not mean what she felt in her heart. She began to fear the time and kisses past had touched her heart, alone. Sudden panic streaked through her veins. "Do you think that wise?"

Legolas shifted, uncomfortably. A lump had suddenly appeared in his throat and refused to depart.

"I mean you no discomfort, Legolas. I merely wish to understand your intentions upon my arrival at your father's kingdom."

Legolas thought. Surely, it was a valid question, but he was embarrassed about giving the reply.

Mithryn noticed this, and spoke again. "I am not Elf-kind and, as an outsider, I fear I would be...unwelcome, despite being your friend."

"Friend?" Legolas whispered, mind reeling. He felt clumsy with words and feared her mockery. Yet, when his eyes met hers, he knew there was no mockery in her heart for him. "My intention towards you has been one and the same since I first realized I loved you. It is not friendship alone, I offer you. My intentions are honorable, for I wish us to wed."

Mithryn's heart danced in her chest, but was quickly quelled. He was, after all, an elf prince, and she a mortal. "But what of your father? Would he approve such a match for his eldest son, and the heir to his kingdom?"

"He is a wise man, and I hold great faith in his knowledge and beliefs. However, whatever his stand, this is one instance in which I will not be swayed."

Mithryn sighed, smiled, and nodded. He leaned in, wrapping his strong arms about her, pulling her close, and kissed her tenderly.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know if you like!  I always respond, so if you'd like to chat, drop me a line, and let me know what you think of where the story's going!


	8. Northward and Homeward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review!  I don't mean to beg, but it's nice to know if people are actually reading this...

**CHAPTER 8 -** **NORTHWARD AND HOMEWARD**

Mithryn spent seventy-eight years in virtual seclusion. When the time for leaving had finally arrived, she found it considerably distressing. Her few long cherished possessions were carefully wrapped and stowed on the back of Anfalas. The cottage she would leave full with the furniture, bedding, and pottery which were of no need to her now. Her carefully nurtured gardens would have to survive on their own. Legolas waited patiently outside with Anfalas, not wishing to intrude on her goodbyes.

Mithryn stood in her bedchamber doorway gazing one last time on her past life knowing she would never look upon the room again. Before walking out, she placed a short note on the kitchen table for the next inhabitant the cottage may possess.

Legolas could see her pain. "Is there naught I can do?" he inquired, wishing to somehow lessen her remorse.

"Nay, time will heal all. We should depart, I think."

Thus, the journey began. Mithryn rode Anfalas while Legolas led on foot. The sun shone merrily, however, all the forested hills fell into despair. The trees shook and rustled, straining to beg and plead with all their rigid might; birds flooded the trees and chirped in a loud cacophony; woodland creatures peeped out of shrubs and holes, yet, Mithryn still rode on. Not that she couldn't feel their despondency. She wept silently with lowered head. As a Wood-elf, Legolas could sense all of nature's moods; he felt their love for Mithryn and how they lamented her departure. His heart wept as well, and continued to do so, until at last, the boundary was crossed.

Mithryn had neither strength of heart nor spirit to turn for one last glance. The light in her wood had gone out; her heart and love now lay elsewhere, thus, the spell was broken. It would never again be rekindled unless Mithryn returned, which the sad denizens now waited for with longing, but alas, she would never come again.

They followed the same route that Legolas had been taking ere the attack. The day passed quietly, yet, the pair was cautious. After some hours, Legolas and Mithryn rode together; the added weight was not burdensome for the strong horse. Mithryn wrapped her arms tenderly around his waist, anxious to be close and to shed off her heartache. Their spirits rose and felt free as Anfalas rode east. As the sun set, the forest again grew dark and gloomy. They halted for rest and fare; refreshing themselves with rosemary herb bread, cheese, and wine. Legolas felt Mithryn's fatigue. The breaking of the spell had drained her and her heart suffered greatly.

"Shall we tarry here for a night's rest, or do you wish to go on?" asked Legolas.

Mithryn was weary but reluctant to stop as savage orcs weighed heavily on her mind. Weeks had passed since Legolas's attack, and most likely the orcs had moved on to other sinister deeds. And yet, she felt uneasy. "Nay, we should not linger," and thus they continued their journey.

All soon grew black as pitch. Mithryn's head bobbed sleepily until eventually finding rest on Legolas's shoulder; he felt strangely honored and lovingly protective as Mithryn slept close, trusting him with her life. Though remaining alert and watchful during the night ride, no danger did he sense or see.

Mithryn's eyes opened to fresh air and sunshine warmth. She looked about and found herself laying in a large, grassy field with Anfalas grazing nearby. "Anfalas, where is Legolas?"

"I am here," said he.

Mithryn turned to see him standing in the sun; his hair, lit with golden fire, blowing gracefully in the wind. She smiled. "We have left the wood behind?"

"Aye, we have."

"When did we arrive here?"

"Dawn. I had not the heart to wake you, my love, knowing you to be forlorn upon leaving your home. I believed rest would help."

"It did, indeed," Mithryn confessed. "Yet, I would not have you believe that I am not pleased upon going to your home." Legolas smiled and grasped her tiny hand, helping her rise.

"There is no need to fret. Change, I find, is always bittersweet. The end of one thing, and the beginning of another. I share your woe, but hope to be part of your happiness."

"You are my happiness," she said adoringly, and he kissed her tenderly on her forehead. It struck her wondrous how life, so filled with uncertainty and pain, could produce at times such perfect happy moments.

The eastern border of Mirkwood had finally been crossed and they were now in the fields nearly fifty miles west of the Celduin River. Legolas knew that not all evil had been entirely put behind them merely by escaping the forest. After they had partaken of breakfast, they set out and rode onwards following the woodland skirt until the Celduin had at last been reached. The swift river splashed, flowing along merrily, and with it brought the flavoured scent of Thranduil's kingdom on a refreshing zephyr. Legolas's spirits strengthened; at last, home felt near!

A pale, languid moon rose in the sky as they rode along, darkness engulfing them. They were but a mile from the Old Forest Road and Legolas knew that they should not pass that way after nightfall. Camp was, therefore, set on the forest boundary under the veil of low hanging weeping willows laden with drooping leaves. A fire dared not be lit, yet, the night was unseasonably cool for the spring months. Legolas saw Mithryn shivering, each breath creating a hazy mist. After unstrapping the quilt from Anfalas, he cloaked it around him. "Come. We shall keep warm together," he said. She went to him, and they sat neath the swaying limbs of the mighty willow; he enveloped her in the soft blanket.

Mithryn snuggled in closely to his warm body. He smelt of fresh leaves and spring rainwater. She placed a gentle hand on his strong chest which rose and fell with every breath. Turning his head, he tenderly kissed her forehead while wrapping his powerful arms around her. Eyes closed, Mithryn slowly drifted away into blissful sleep, whilst Legolas's eyes and ears maintained guard throughout the night.

As the night grew quiet and still, he watched her in peaceful slumber. Her breathing grew long and slow, and arms rested gracefully around him. Her vermilion curls sprawled across his chest resting beside his own golden hair. With a curious hand, he picked up a curly strand, examining its spiraling nature and fiery colour. He marveled at how radiant and wondrous it was, even in the darkness of night. He gently replaced the lock and, with tender arms, held her lovingly close.

Before that night, he had never imagined such happiness existed. He never dreamed that the touch of another, a smile, a word, nay, a look, could bring the stars and the moon straight to his heart. And here she lay, wanting to be with him and no other, and all he could wish for was to be by her side for all eternity.

The loss of Northern Mirkwood's beloved prince and heir was felt intensely by its people. The return of King Thranduil's three sons brought some ease to their aching hearts but nothing could fill the void all felt. In the attempt to relieve their tortured minds of the loss of Legolas, Tarnil and Galamed turned their attention toward Haldof who suffered greatly.

"He punishes himself for Father will not," Tarnil said as he and Galamed spoke privately under branch and leaf deep in their forest realm.

"You feel he ought to be punished?" replied Galamed, astonished.

"Nay, I said not so. Yet, Haldof does. He will never forgive himself."

"I have tried speaking with him, yet, he would not let me near." Galamed sat on a large boulder covered in soft moss. A stream flowed beside it which fell in tiny waterfalls. Tarnil joined him.

"I know your worries, Brother, for I share them with you. You too feel Haldof falling into darkness and despair. He is much altered, as are we all. And yet, it is remorse that is Haldof's enemy. He withers like an ailing sapling and...I know not what is to be done."

"Father must speak to him," Galamed said, staring at the green forest floor. "Haldof has been avoiding his presence since our return and Father has done nothing. That is an error in judgment on Father's part, I believe."

Suddenly, a voice from behind the pair spoke and caught them both unaware. "I fear you are right."

Tarnil and Galamed promptly turned to see Thranduil regally dressed in long, emerald, velvet robes. Galamed's face quickly flushed as he recalled his last words.

Thranduil, however, was not vexed. "Do not regret your words, my son. They were spoken from the heart and for the love of your brother. Your concern is honorable."

The two sons gazed up, grateful for the guidance and solace from their father.

"It is true that I have neglected Haldof," the king continued. "I know this, and hearing your words put me in mind that enough time has been spent in isolation for us both. The heart does not grieve any less when friends and family are near, but the pain does seem easier to bear. He has been waiting for me and has fallen into shadow while anticipating my arrival. This was my fault, but he shall wait no longer. Are you comforted?"

Galamed and Tarnil rose and approached Thranduil. Their faces spoke of minds and hearts that were now eased as though a great weight had been lifted.

Upon his return from the search for Legolas, Haldof retreated to the only place that offered him any comfort. The eldest and most beloved tree in all of Mirkwood grew in the Elven realm, and they treasured it as they would an old, and dear friend. Belegaladh, they called it. For more than two thousand years Belegaladh grew with them, and many could recall the days of it being but a seed. Now the ancient tree stood; its massive bole and gnarled, tangled boughs displaying the time that had gone by, while all surrounding it retained the look of youth.

The four princes had not been boys when Belegaladh was a sapling. They were fully grown Elves and fierce warriors before the tree was sturdy enough to be climbed. Yet, as time passed and other trees gave birth and fell, Belegaladh remained and became cherished as only a tree could to the Elves. It was to this refuge that Haldof escaped. Many memories of Legolas and his brothers in Belegaladh's mighty, ancient boughs he carried with him.

Haldof had grown thin, for no sustenance would he take. He grew lonely, yet, none would he allow to come near. Exhausting grief haunted him. However, no solace could he find. He longed for release; he longed for death.

The king drew close, yet Haldof, consumed by inner turmoil, did not take notice. "How are you, my son?" asked Thranduil.

Haldof started and was torn from anguished thought. Seeing his father standing neath him, eyes grieved, Haldof turned away. "Leave me, Father. Just leave me."

"Nay, my son. I have, thus far, but neither you nor I shall be in solitude any longer." Thranduil waited for a reply, but none came. "Will you not speak to me?"

"I wish to be alone, Father. That is all that I ask."

"But I do not grant it."

Haldof let out an anguished sigh; his chin quivered. He did not know if he could bear what he knew his father was going to say.

"May I climb up?"

Haldof looked down, surprised. "You are king, Father. I cannot prevent you."

"Thank you," Thranduil said. He slightly lifted his robes and ascended higher and higher until at last he sat on a bough next to his son. "I have not been in Belegaladh's branches for some time. A few hundred years, I should think. I fear my robes are not meant for climbing."

Haldof said naught and would not look at him.

Thranduil shook his head thoughtfully. A serious veil covered his face once more. "My son, I must apologize. I should have come to you sooner. That was a misjudgment. I know how you must feel for the loss of Legolas. You are not alone in your feelings."

Haldof turned to his father, eyes burning with pain and torment. "If you mean to say that there are others who share in my guilt, you are mistaken! Tarnil and Galamed are blameless," he exclaimed, lashing out.

Thranduil sat aghast. "Guilt? What guilt is there to be felt? You searched long and wearily with no success. I do not blame you, my son, because your search was fruitless. How could I do so?"

Haldof's lips trembled. A tear escaped his eye. "It was I who ordered the attack on the camp. We were greatly outnumbered - Legolas knew it ought not be attempted, yet, I insisted I knew rightly! Cannot you see that it is my fault he is lost? Indeed, there is contrition to be felt, and I acknowledge it. There is blame, and my decision is the cause. It is because of me he is gone." Haldof dared not look at him. He prepared himself for the words that were to follow, now that his father knew all.

Thranduil sat grieved, his face growing weak. How very weary he felt. It was as if all the ages had come upon him in that very moment. How was he to bear the loss of a treasured son, and how was he to comfort another?

Haldof, desperately trying to contain the brokenhearted emotion swelling within him, had not prepared himself for silence. "Say something," he commanded.

"What is there to say? You knew not how the battle would end. Many of our greatest generals have made errors of strategy." He shook his bowed head. "Nay, my heart cannot blame you, son."

Haldof was not satisfied. He knew it to be his fault and none would change his mind. "How can you speak so? Legolas is dead, due to me, and yet you do not condemn me?! Whom do you blame, then?!" he said in exasperated rage.

Thranduil remained calm and took no heed of his son's truculent words. He knew Haldof had spoken out of excruciating woe. "It would be unwise to blame any but the cause for the battle. It is to them, I place the blame. None other."

Haldof shook his head; his heart screamed and would not be silenced. The guilt was a flame that could not be quenched. After some time in silence, he spoke, his voice eerily calm. "Father, I wish to leave. There is no comfort for me here now."

Thranduil's face turned, horrified. His own heart cried out. How could he bear the loss of another son? "Leave? But where would you go? To Rivendell?"

"Nay," Haldof replied, unemotionally. "I think not."

"The Grey Havens? Do you feel the call to Valinor?"

"Nay. I wish to travel, I think. I know not where." It was, of course, a lie. His mission was now clear. He would hunt down the Orcs who had slain his brother and kill them all. He cared not if his quest took him to Dol Guldur, or the Halls of Mandos. He quite deserved death, he thought.

Thranduil's mind was filled with panic. His next words came harsh and were spoken with the force of his supreme authority. "I do not grant you leave. This is an ill time for you to forsake us all. Our people look to us. They look to you. You cannot abandon them regardless of your grief."

"Father..." Haldof started, eerily calm.

"I forbid it!" Thranduil interrupted, voice resolute. After an uncomfortable moment, he softened, and grew regretful of his abrupt words. "I am sorry, Haldof. I know I cannot stop you. The decision is yours." He then rose, descended the tree, and strode off hastily to the now comfortless walls of his palace.

**Author's Note:** Please review!  I don't mean to beg, but it's nice to know if people are actually reading this...


	9. The Dead Returneth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know what you think!!!

**CHAPTER 9 -** **THE DEAD RETURNETH**

Morning sun raised her bright face bringing freshness and warmth to the earth. Nathuil strolled nimbly along the elf path to the nearest border. As Captain of the Watch-guards, it was his responsibility to oversee all who patrolled the edge of their domain. To the untrained eye it would appear that he was simply heading deeper into the forest. Yet, high above, nestled in the brush of the trees, the Guards hid, ever vigilant and alert. Stopping at a tall beech, a ladder was suddenly dropped down and Nathuil climbed up sprightly. A hundred feet into the air he ascended before, at last, setting foot upon the talan. Two guards stood fast, eyes sharp as hawks, watching the outer forest. "You may go home now, Taranin," Nathuil said to one. "I shall finish your watch."

"Nay, I wish to stay. I have made no objection, Nathuil."

Nathuil smiled. "Your wife's time is near. I know she desires you to remain close. Will you not go to her? I believe she would be greatly comforted."

Taranin thought for a moment and then nodded. "Thank you, Nathuil." Taranin, with graceful ease, lowered himself down the rope-ladder. All remained quiet for some time as Andorian and Nathuil maintained a silent vigil.

"Ai!" Andorien whispered abruptly, eyes straining to see through the forest veil.

"Did you espy something?" breathed Nathuil.

Andorien peered long before raising his hand and pointing in the forward direction. "There."

The two Elves stared hard, bows loaded, struggling to discern the approaching danger. Suddenly, Nathuil started, bow falling to the floor of the talan, his face registering that of shock and denial. He momentarily closed his disbelieving eyes. "I dream," he said quietly to himself. "A! Elbereth Gilthoniel, please do not let this be an illusion..." He opened his eyes once more to see clearly again that which rode toward him. "Legolas!" he cried out with glorious surprise and happiness. The rider, on a chestnut mare, raised his head, gazed at the talan and smiled before lifting his hand high into the air in friendly greeting.

A merry laugh escaped the overjoyed Nathuil. "Andorien, quick! Sound the call! All in our kingdom must hear this!"

Andorien hastily grabbed the silver iavin with trembling hands. As he held the long, sparkling horn to his lips, he was so overcome with happiness, that he was quite at a loss as to what to do. "What call should I give?"

Nathuil was already almost halfway down the ladder. "The call of Returning Warriors!" Nathuil replied. "Let all know who has come at last!"

The high, clear note of the iavin resounded through the forest like a welcoming beacon for all who heard its good tidings. Elves throughout the realm ceased activities, stood still, and listened. Wonder filled their minds for it was not believed that any Elves were absent from home. Then, one by one, their thoughts turned toward Legolas. With haste and hopes high, they rushed to where the call sounded joining in the elven welcoming song even before knowing for whom it honoured.

Meanwhile, Nathuil jumped from the ladder when but a few feet remained. He broke into a run immediately and quickly reached the riders. Legolas halted Anfalas, dismounted sprightly, and ran forth to greet his lifelong friend. They met with embraces and merry laughter. Mithryn viewed all while still atop Anfalas, with heartwarming pleasure. It suddenly struck her how long it had been since she had known the joy of welcoming friends and this sense of belonging to a community, a family.

"Oh, Legolas!" Nathuil exclaimed. "You know not how you were missed! I thought my eyes deceived me, and yet, here you stand!"

A mirthful smile seemed permanently etched on Legolas's beaming face; his heart filled with joy. At long last, he was home! "You cannot know how it feels for me to stand here, Nathuil! It is now a dream come true!"

Elves arrived, all greeting him exuberantly with warm embraces and happy words. Song had erupted at first sight of him and angelic voices filled the wide wood with the sweet sound like bells on the wind. Mithryn marveled at how mellifluously and magically their words fell on her ears. Never before had music filled her heart so and brought such warmth that she thought the sun itself must be inside her chest.

Gradually Elves' attention turned from the hero returned to the curious looking mortal. They viewed her with distrust, for they knew her not, and made no movement toward her. They simply eyed her warily.

"Legolas?!" a surprised voice called out. Legolas turned to see none other than his youngest brothers, Tarnil and Galamed, standing in the clearing, straining to see around the crowd of Elves. A path was quickly made and the three brothers embraced each other with restored hearts. They leaned their heads inward, foreheads touching, arms firmly grasped on each other's shoulders. "I am dreaming," Tarnil exclaimed.

"Nay, Brother. You are awake," Legolas replied.

"Where have you been?" Galamed asked eagerly. "Are you injured?"

"What of the orcs?" Tarnil interrupted. "How did you escape?"

"All shall be explained in due course, I promise," replied Legolas.

"Son?" a quiet voice said.

Legolas turned to see his father standing with astonished eyes. Leaving his brothers, Legolas slowly stepped toward his father. All the wood fell into silence and only the soft creaking of the trees could be heard. "Hello, Father," was all he could say. Thranduil's chin trembled as he stared at his son, words failing him.

Legolas gazed at the ground, abashed, feeling that his father must be extremely angry with him. "I know you bade me to return soon..." but his sentence could not be completed as Thranduil's arms immediately outstretched and pulled his son close to him in a blissful embrace. This gesture of acceptance, forgiveness, and joy by his father, touched Legolas to the depths of his heart. The assembly erupted in glorious cheer.

But before they separated, Thranduil held his fair son by the shoulders, stared into his blue eyes and said quietly: "You have a great deal of explaining to do, son."

A laugh escaped Legolas. "Aye, Father, I know it. Much is there to say."

Thranduil's face broke into smile as well. "Then come! We shall go to my quarters as I wish to know all. A lot has happened in your absence which you must hear as well." Thranduil motioned for his sons to return to the palace but Legolas did not move. A shy, mischievous grin spread across his face.

"Father, I have someone for you to meet."

"Someone for me to meet?" the king repeated in amazement. Legolas strode back through the crowd toward Mithryn who had been watching all. The whole company gazed at the pair with speculation. Legolas stood at Anfalas's side and, looking up at Mithryn, beamed. Placing his gentle hands on her waist, he effortlessly lifted her down. Curious whispers spread quickly through the crowd as Legolas was unquestionably smitten by the mortal.

Holding Mithryn's hand, he walked her to his father whose face bore no sign of his utter bewilderment. "Father," Legolas said, proudly and full of heart, "this is the Lady Mithryn." The king nodded in reply, but was rather suspicious and confused as to his son's meaning of this, rather familiar, introduction. "Mithryn," Legolas continued, "this is my father, King Thranduil, Lord of North Mirkwood." Mithryn had never before met a king, but as Legolas had counseled her upon first greetings, she properly and gracefully curtseyed in the elven manner with lowered, humble eyes and said, "Elen sila lúmenn' omentielvo."

"Father, I have declared Mithryn Elf-friend as she has, indeed, become a great friend to me. Without her, I would not be here with you now." Thranduil stared at the mortal maiden in curious wonder. His mood was torn between overwhelming relief for Legolas's return, and bafflement toward this outsider whom his son brought with him. Legolas, however, smiled and gazed at her with loving pride.

Thranduil saw all, and was not pleased; however, neither was he rude, nor would he think to treat the guest of his son with any disrespect. "Welcome then, Mithryn, Elf-friend, to my domain. Walk with us, please, as we return to our homes and halls. There shall be a great feast tonight as there is much to celebrate! How fortunate that the weather is fair."

The king, his three sons, and Mithryn then strode toward the Palace, followed closely by the gathering of kith and kin. As they walked, Legolas gently clasped Mithryn's hand; it did not escape Thranduil's observing eye. Nathuil approached Anfalas and, after asking permission from the strange horse, gently grasped her bridle and led her to the stables.

The large gathering walked onward until reaching the king's palace. Elves soon disbursed, eager to make preparations for the night's special celebrations, and to spread word of their prince's return. Mithryn marveled at how beautiful and harmonious the Elven kingdom was. From her vantage point in the clearing, she could see many ornately carved, circular Elven homes, stacked one atop the other, nestled in-between towering trees. Lattice-laced, winding stairs curled at the side. Large, private huts also adorned the forest terrain. Scrolling gingerbread fluting hung from the roofs, and creeping ivy, as well as colourful morning-glories, entwined over the cabins, dripping off the roof like living icicles.

The king turned his attention toward an Elf-matron who was large with child. "Mithryn, may I present to you Elmarin?" he said, introducing the two. "This is the Lady Mithryn who shall be our guest. Would you be so good as to look after her?" The lady smiled, curtseyed slightly and placed a gentle hand on Mithryn's arm, directing her away from the palace halls to one of the cottages. Mithryn turned back to look at Legolas. He smiled and nodded to her, assuring her that all was well before he was led over the bridge and into the halls deep within the palace caves.

Mithryn stared at Elmarin whose skin glowed as if with radiant light. Her golden hair was braided and wrapped up over the crown of her head, as more flowing tresses trailed down her long back. Mithryn marveled at how beautiful she was. The lady turned to the shy mortal and smiled. "I hope you shall like it here, Mithryn."

"Thank you," Mithryn said, timidly; however, she refrained from voicing her scepticism. She felt strangely homesick as she was unused to crowds and large groups of people, even though she knew none here meant her any harm.

Elmarin led Mithryn up a winding path to a spacious cabin. It had a high thatched roof and many arched windows with delicately etched glass. Opening the curved door, Elmarin led her inside. Tall, intricately woven candlesticks stood about the room and a fire was lit which was burning merrily in the stone hearth. The bed's four posts entwined upwards toward the high ceiling like vines. Richly woven blankets of green and blue covered the bed. A table with two chairs sat against another wall, its legs matching those of the spiraling bedposts. A spread of fresh fruit and red wine was lavishly set for the inhabiting guest. Flowing sapphire curtains dripped from the windows and gracefully swayed with the incoming breeze.

"Did you know of my coming?" Mithryn said in awe, gazing about her magnificent room.

"Word was sent that Legolas brought with him a guest." A knock was heard at the door and Elmarin answered. An Elf entered carrying all of Mithryn's belongings, including Gilóre.

"Taranin, how good of you! Mithryn, this is Taranin, my husband."

Mithryn curtsied as Taranin bowed. He gently placed her parcels on the table. "I have been admiring your sword, Lady Mithryn. I have never seen its equal, excepting of the blades crafted in Rivendell."

Mithryn smiled. "Rivendell! Truly, that is astonishing! It was a gift to me by my father, but I know not where he might have acquired it."

"In Rivendell," Taranin said, "unless I am very much mistaken. Elmarin, I fear I must leave you now. Much is there to prepare for tonight and his lordship is keeping none free of duty." He placed an affectionate, gentle hand around his wife's waist. "Pray do not over exert yourself. Remember you are to be at ease during this time."

"I know; I shan't be long," Elmarin said lovingly before her husband took his leave of them both and quietly shut the door.

"How kind of him to bring me my belongings," Mithryn said, beginning to unpack her clothes. She eyed her few dresses for the first time with embarrassment. They were much worn and indelicately made as she had no skill for sewing. Gazing at Elmarin's beautifully tailored dress, Mithryn admired its azure fabric, flowing like water when she moved, and its silver trim which sparkled like diamonds as the soft light touched it.

Elmarin observed Mithryn unpacking her meager belongings and seemed to sense her distress. "With such a grand occasion as tonight's festivities, would you like a gown to be prepared for you?"

"No, no," Mithryn said, embarrassed. "I would not wish to put anyone to that amount of trouble."

"No trouble would it be for us, truly." Elmarin reached out with a delicate hand, gently touching Mithryn's curly locks. "What extraordinary hair you have, like lively flame. And green eyes! Most enchanting. You are the first mortal woman I have met, you know; others I have seen, but, only from a distance."

"Really?" Mithryn replied in amazement. She had encountered other Elven Ladies while living in her cottage, but only very few.

"I believe a green dress would compliment your eyes. Yes, I am sure of it; and contrast exquisitely with your hair. One shall be made immediately. Elven-maidens will arrive soon to take the necessary measurements. Until then, do rest and have some refreshment. I shall see you again tonight."

"Thank you, Elmarin. You have been so kind to me. I am overwhelmed."

"Are you so unused to such kindnesses?" Elmarin asked, sadly. "How fortunate, then, you have come to us."

She departed and Mithryn was left alone to ponder Elmarin's heartfelt words. It was true, Mithryn agreed, such generosity seemed foreign to her. The Woodland Folk were never friendly, and visitors had been few and far between. She finished unpacking her possessions, finding homes for her doll, the broken lamp, Gilóre, and her father's pipe. Her cabin now felt like home.

Meanwhile, Legolas had been standing in his own bedchamber in the palace, gazing about, trying to register that he was truly there. Just a short while ago, under an orc blade, he thought he would never see home again. No windows were located in his room but a massive, circular chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling which gave off much warm light from its many small lamps. The substantial fireplace, which had been lit upon his arrival, glowed heartily, taking the chill out of the room. His bed stood in the center, its four posts carved into thick, straight poles from which translucent cloth hung in folds. Large tapestries, lovingly made by his people illustrating events from his long life, decorated the walls. They included his birth, his first hunt, and his role in the Battle of the Five Armies.

Opening his tall armoire, he unfastened his weapons' harness and placed his bow, arrow quiver, and long blade back in their old home. He felt little need for material possessions but kept some which had special meaning to his heart upon his bureau. On a purple, velvet cushion was a ring belonging to his mother prior to her departure. It had been crafted by the Dwarves during friendlier times. It shone of mithril while an exquisite leafy stone sat in the center. "This shall now be Mithryn's," he thought with joy. "Mother would be pleased."

Other articles which adorned his dresser included several books, all aged, cracked, well worn, and long held dear to him as they told the tales of Elves past, their successes, as well as their failures. A tall washstand stood beside the bureau, a large basin and plump jug set atop it, which he had owned for as long as his memory allowed.

Unbuttoning his doublet, he gingerly extracted another item to which he now held dear. It was a dried, elegantly woven necklet of sweet, yellowed flowers; the very gift Mithryn had made for him upon his first arrival to her realm. He now held the frail band in his hands before gently placing it around the cushioned ring, encircling it.

His door suddenly burst open; his brothers barging in, all three of them. "Legolas?!" Haldof exclaimed, embracing his long lost brother. "I did not believe it! I thought my brothers to be very cruel, indeed, to be telling me that you had returned!"

"They are cruel," Legolas teased, "but they do not lie of my return. How are you?" he said, concerned. Haldof appeared to him thin and frail with dark hollows neath his bright eyes.

"Oh, I am well now you have returned to us! We should have known that you could not be so easily slain by orcs!"

"Ai, what is this?" Legolas asked in confusion.

"We searched for weeks, Legolas, but found little trace of you," Tarnil said, solemnly.

"Our hearts mourned for we all believed you dead," Galamed added gravely.

Legolas's spirit grew serious. Gazing at Haldof's much altered face, he now fully grasped how his absence had affected those he loved. "I am grieved, for I did not know. It was not my intention to cause you all so much pain or to be gone as long as I had. Events prevented me from returning sooner, and yet, it is clear to me that you have suffered greatly." Guilt took firm hold and would not release.

Haldof's spirits again rose and he wrapped a weak arm around Legolas's mighty shoulders. "Ah, it is we who should have been the wiser," spouted Haldof, now light of heart. "Nay, I do not believe even a Balrog could smite this Elf down!" Laughter erupted from the brothers but Legolas's shame did not wane.

"Come, Galamed and Haldof," bade Tarnil. "We must prepare for tonight. If we prevent Legolas from arriving on time, I greatly fear Father's wrath."

Haldof, however, turned once more to his long-lost brother. "Legolas returneth from the dead. What good tidings indeed!" Haldof said, embracing him once more before making a quick departure. Their merry laughter echoed in the cave corridors and they left Legolas alone. He hung his head in contrition but could not regret his choice to stay with Mithryn. Indeed, following his recovery from the orc wound, he had returned as quickly as possible. And yet, that supreme knowledge failed to ease his remorse.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think!!!


	10. Best Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think of Haldof?  I'd love to know your thoughts!

**CHAPTER 10 -** **BEST INTENTIONS**

It was, indeed, a most beautiful night for the special celebration, air and wind being warm and fragrant. Stars twinkled, glistening brightly, decorating the cloudless night sky. Tall candelabra were brought out-of-doors into the clearing; a soft breeze caused the lights to flicker and dance merrily. Long tables were set and festively decorated with filmy, gossamer cloth, silver dishes, and leafy green centerpieces adorned with sprays of wild flowers and ripe, red berries.

Talented musicians, singers, and storytellers joyously unveiled their skill, taking turns as all the elves of the kingdom slowly arrived dressed in their best attire. The guest of honour, Legolas, also entered, handsomely clothed in formal robes which were long, deep Royal blue, and made of the softest, most luscious velvet, feeling like cream to the skin. Elaborate silver brocade, spun of pure silver, edged his ensemble; it glistened in the starlight, setting off the glint in his own eyes.

Elves burst into glorious applause upon his entrance, and all again wished to relate their overwhelming relief. Legolas dutifully attended to his citizens as did his three brothers upon their arrival. While mingling with his people, Legolas's eyes glanced about the busy spectacle ceaselessly, but surreptitiously, searching for Mithryn. At last, he caught sight of her standing alone at the edge of the clearing. Smiling, and excusing himself, he walked briskly to her as she stood shyly aloof.

At first, he had not noticed the change in her gown, for such things did not engross his mind. However, seeing her donned in the cloth of his people caused his heart to jump. Her low, tight bodice accentuated her feminine physique. The close, fitted waist flourished into a long, voluminous skirt which swayed with the gentle wind. Delicate, flowing sleeves ended below her wrists, while lengthy folds underneath trailed down, gently grazing the ground. He marveled at how the dark, emerald hue brought out the colour in her eyes. The golden filigree braid scrolled in an elven twining design emphasized her low hemline. He stood beside her in the dim, private cover of trees, smiling at her radiance.

She gazed up at him. "I missed you this afternoon."

"As I missed you. Ah, but how beautifully you shine tonight! You make the stars jealous," he said, impishly.

"Oh, do not tease!" she said, enjoying his sweet words. "What do you think of my hair? The maids were quite at a loss as to how to dress it. They had never decorated curls before."

Legolas examined her intricately woven locks. The maidens had done a supreme job, he thought. They had braided ringlets together, and pulled them up, while still allowing bountiful curls to cascade down her back. "Breathtaking," he said, adoringly. "How odd it felt to be away from you even for a few short hours. Strange, for no matter what I do, you are always in my thoughts."

"I understand, for it is the same with me." She then turned as musicians struck a loud and boisterous melody. "All seem very happy at your return. I believe you were missed much more than you had considered."

"Yes," Legolas said, guiltily, but not wishing to share his remorse. Mithryn looked timidly at the growing assembly with nervous eyes; crowds frightened her as she felt awkward and out of place.

Legolas's eyes followed her gaze. "I will not abandon you."

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I am unused to such gatherings. Having lived a solitary life for such a long period of time, I fear it has caused me to become slightly unsure of myself while in a crowd."

"That is to be understood. Wood-elves, by nature, are suspicious of strangers, but you need not fear their censure. You are my personal guest; naught will happen to you." Yet, he knew, but could not say, that it would be many long decades before the elves would regard her as one of them. He gazed about his home, and then at her. "In truth, I cannot believe we are here."

"I am of the same mind for I keep expecting to wake and find myself alone."

"I swear to you that never again shall it be so," he said reassuringly, and leaning down, kissed her with soft, tender lips.

Haldof had been busy looking for Legolas, though the sight of his brother in such an indiscreet spectacle caught him completely by surprise. He had heard nothing of a mortal guest in the kingdom.

"Haldof, there you are!" exclaimed Tarnil as he approached his shocked brother.

"Tarnil, who is that Lady?" Haldof asked in bewilderment.

Tarnil gazed at the romantic scene Legolas and Mithryn displayed, and quickly averted his eyes. Haldof, however, could not.

"Uh," Tarnil said, uncomfortably, "that is the Lady Mithryn whom Legolas has brought back with him."

"Brought back with him?! What do you suppose his intentions are?"

Tarnil stared at Haldof for a few moments with wide eyes. "One can only guess."

"But, she is a mortal!"

Tarnil sighed. "I know."

Turning, Legolas saw his brothers and, immediately, he and Mithryn joined them. Introductions, bows, curtsies, and kind greetings followed, but not from all. It vehemently struck Mithryn that her presence was not welcomed by Haldof. His dark, penetrating glower failed to escape Legolas's notice either. Firmly nudging Haldof's arm, Legolas cast him a warning glare of his own. Tarnil glanced back and forth at the irate pair before turning to Mithryn. "What say you, Mithryn? Shall I properly introduce you to our people? It will not do to keep you hidden. All are waiting to make your acquaintance."

"Thank you, Tarnil," she said, grateful for his gentle kindness. If Legolas and Haldof were to have a falling out, she would rather not bear witness. Casting one more glance at Legolas, she took Tarnil's arm, and was led to the merry gathering.

"Why did you do that?" Legolas harshly whispered to Haldof when they were at last alone.

"How dare you reproach me?! I saw you, Legolas! I believe everyone present saw you."

"I care not. Nor do I owe you an explanation for my actions. You forget, Brother, that I am your elder."

"How like you to remind me that I am but a year your junior. Legolas, have you gone mad?! Of what were you thinking, bringing a mortal here?!" he fumed in a hushed tone, not wanting to make a scene.

"That is my concern alone, and not for you to say."

Haldof's face grew hot with Legolas's impudence. "What a king you shall make, Legolas! I never thought you for one who would take a mistress. If that is what you wish, bed her then, and be done with it."

Legolas's eyes flashed dangerously as he stepped close, whispering, ever so quietly: "Never say such to me again."

The sudden invigorating sound of many iavin interrupted their heated discussion. Quiet settled on the clearing as the king, resplendent in distinguished violet robes, walked onto the trellised bridge. "Tonight we are most fortunate to celebrate the return of my eldest son, Legolas." The crowd erupted in cheers upon hearing Thranduil's words. Raising his hands, silence again descended. "As you can see, Legolas, you were sadly missed. Alas, where is Legolas? Pray come forth!"

Legolas cast a last darkened glance at Haldof before adorning his fair face with a diplomatic smile as he joined his father. Thranduil placed a tender hand on his son's strong shoulder. "Son, we are exceedingly thankful to have you returned to us. Much are we, also, pleased to welcome your guest, the Lady Mithryn, into our domain. Elf-friend, you shall forever be welcome with us!" More applause escaped the assembly, which touched Mithryn deeply. Her fear and uncertainty of the Wood-elves diminished considerably at their warm response. Upon catching Legolas's eye, Mithryn and he shared a moment of delighted acceptance; all plans for their future were now beginning to bear fruit.

Thranduil continued when all were hushed once more. "Let us all be mirthful tonight and have no more disparaging thoughts! Welcome home, my son!" Thranduil embraced Legolas, and roaring praise echoed into the wide wood. Elves standing guard far on the outskirts of the kingdom heard their gaiety and felt proud to be protecting so marvelous an Empire.

Feasting, dancing, tales, music and song lasted well into the night and early morn until, at last, the stars began to fade into the awakening sky. Legolas and Mithryn had taken part in all, making merry themselves as they were together and could wish for little more. Haldof remained resolved and maintained a disapproving distance, but few noticed. Tarnil and Galamed said naught to him as both felt this was a time for festivity and not the right moment to discuss Legolas's romantic sensibilities.

Indeed, even the king felt the following day to be a more appropriate time for discussing Legolas's decisions. He was heartily glad to see his son home, yet, necessity called for explanations to be made. Therefore, he summoned each of his sons to be present, feeling it concerned them all. The five sat at the long table in the king's private study, where words were less likely to be overheard. A fire had been lit within the hearth, and food and drink set upon the table, but was blatantly ignored, as all attention was bestowed upon the returned hero.

Haldof's scowl had not faded with the stars for he still eyed his brother reprovingly, but said nothing. Legolas did not wait for requests and, upon the oak door being shut, began his long report starting with his separation from the battle scene. Several times his brothers nodded in understanding as gaps from the puzzle were at last filled in. Legolas told them of Ugnúl, of his near-fatal injury, and of his great esteem for Mithryn's courage and skill in healing. All listened with stilled tongues. "If not for Mithryn," he concluded, "I would not be here. There is not a doubt in my mind," he said at last, completing his story.

All sat still, none knowing what to say. Tarnil broke the silence. "Legolas, I fail to understand you. Did you bring her here out of gratitude?" he asked softly, trying desperately to comprehend but fearing to offend.

"Nay," Legolas replied with distaste, "I am grateful she saved me, to be sure, but that is not why I brought her here."

"Then, what was your design in doing so?" Thranduil asked gently.

"I had thought my intention would be obvious to you, Father. Never would I attempt to mask my feelings for Mithryn for I am not ashamed of where my heart lies."

Eyes shifted from one to the other in disapproval. "Am I to understand that you have given her your heart?" Galamed asked.

"Aye, I have," replied Legolas, staunchly.

Haldof let out an exasperated huff which Legolas chose to ignore. Thranduil, meanwhile, covered his mouth with his hand, jaw locked. Never would he have wished such a dire fate for a child of his.

Legolas could see the torment spread over his father's fair face. "I am sorry. I had meant to request permission prior to bringing her here, but, soon did I realize, I could not leave her."

Thranduil's eyes rose to meet his son's; both adamantly staring at each other. "Son, she is a mortal. You know the price for loving one of her kind. Do you think you can withstand the torment of seeing her wither and die before you? Have no illusions! While years pass, you shall remain youthful as she will diminish and perish. Think you can bear this, my son?"

Without blinking, Legolas replied: "Mithryn has lived many years in the lives of Men, and not grown old. Perhaps she..."

"Legolas, live not in a dream!" Thranduil beseeched. "Her end is her fate. She is not elf-kind. Death is Mithryn's only certainty."

"Do none of you understand?" Legolas bowed his head. "I love Mithryn. Never before had I thought such love existed. You cannot ask me to relinquish that. I love you as well; you are my father, yet, Mithryn has my heart; impossible to be otherwise, now. Please do not ask me to choose."

Haldof banged his fists on the table in fury. "You think only of yourself and never how your actions affect others! Need I remind you of your duty to our family, and our reputation, example, and Kingdom?!" he snapped at Legolas before blasting out of the room, fuming in rage.

Tarnil sighed as the storm of Haldof passed. "Although I do not agree with his choice of words, Haldof makes a point that should not be ignored."

Legolas, wounded, gazed at Tarnil for, of all his brothers, he had believed Tarnil would empathize most with his plight. "What of you?" he asked, turning to Galamed.

"What would you have me say?" Galamed said, quietly. "That I am happy for you? I am. Yet, I am also sad for you, Brother, for this cannot end happily, and end it must one day."

Legolas could find no words to his brother's aching, heartfelt sentiments. In his mind's eye, he could see Mithryn fade with time and pass into the mortal heavens without him, never to be seen again. The most painful choice now stood before him; he must choose either his only love, or his family. He had seen the death of kinsmen before, passing away in the slashing, brutality of war. He remembered seeing their life exit, and all that remained was the memory of the Elf, now gone forever. The thought of bearing witness to Mithryn's demise caused his heart to burn. The other option, forsaking her and denying his heart, was equally unacceptable. If love to him was denied, then he knew his choice. He would rather spend this short time with her resplendent sprit, then spend all of eternity regretting his only chance at happiness.

Thranduil sat in silence, carefully deciding what to say. "These are heavy words, spoken from the hearts of those who love you. I could not bid you to choose between your heart and your family, and still ask you to love me. If you and she wish to wed, I will not forbid it. However, may I ask Mithryn's opinion on this subject?"

"Sir?"

Thranduil sensed discomfort in his son. "Does Mithryn understand the risks involved in an Elf giving his heart to a mortal?"

At last came the moment when Legolas's certainty failed him. Stumbling on his words, he was loath to give an answer, but knew better than attempt to deceive his father. "Uh...we...have not discussed it, as yet."

"And you come to me, mind previously set? You care not how she feels?"

"Aye, Father. Of course I do," replied Legolas, quietly.

The king nodded, and turned toward a servant standing statuesquely along the far wall. "Pray, request the Lady Mithryn to join us if this is a convenient time." The attendant bowed and departed in quick execution of his duty, quietly closing the door behind him.

"We shall discuss it, Father; of this, I promise you. Why ask Mithryn to come now?" Legolas asked in sudden panic.

"You have plans to wed this Lady, and yet, you do not wish me to speak with her? Have some faith, Legolas. I shall not throw her into the dungeons, nor banish her from my Kingdom. As I have said before, I do not fully object to the marriage. I, of course, had hopes that an Elf-maiden would catch your eye, but naught is to be done now. Are you satisfied?"

Legolas was not satisfied. This meeting made him nervous, for he felt it unlikely she would thank him for omitting certain truths.

Soon the servant reappeared, Mithryn stepping quickly behind, awestruck upon sight of the radiance of the Elven king's personal study. Tarnil, Galamed, and Legolas all rose upon her arrival, in traditional, courtly fashion.

"Ah, Mithryn," the king said, rising, and taking her small hands, led her to the table himself. Pulling out a chair for her, he said gently, "Pray sit, my dear."

She smiled, and shyly accepted. Legolas remained standing, anxiously awaiting his father's words. Tarnil and Galamed had just returned to their seats when Thranduil said lightly, "Thank you, my sons. You may now leave us."

Tarnil and Galamed turned to each other, blinking. Legolas's jaw dropped slightly and his words did not come as gracefully as his father's. "But Father, I..."

"I assure you, Legolas," Thranduil said, interrupting, "Mithryn is in the greatest of care."

She cast Legolas a brave smile, but he felt like he was abandoning her to some vague, unwitting danger. However, he knew better than to refuse his father. He simply nodded and humbly strode past the guard and out of the chamber with his young brothers trailing closely behind. The king also sat at the table in a high-backed, ornately carved chair, very fit for a king, Mithryn thought. Thranduil gazed at her and smiled kindly. It struck her how much Legolas resembled his father, both in temperament as well as in face.

"Do I frighten you?" Thranduil asked, sensitively.

"A little," Mithryn confessed.

Thranduil was amused. He had a great respect for honesty. "Please be at ease. I wish only that we may speak frankly. Legolas spoke to me of his affection for you. I understand he wishes for the two of you to wed. Is this your desire, as well?"

"Aye, my lord. I love him very much."

The king nodded, and then blushed slightly. "Pardon my manners, my dear. Would you care for some refreshment?"

"Thank you," Mithryn said.

Thranduil filled the goblets with the deep, red liquid and, sipping from his own, turned his thought to the past day's events. A laugh escaped him. "What a time it has been!" he said aloud. "We had started our long period of lamentations for Legolas, and now it does not feel as though my son has actually returned to us, and yet my eyes declare it to be true. Will you not tell me more of yourself, my dear? My conversation with Legolas scarcely broached the subject."

"It is a long story," Mithryn said, in lighthearted warning.

The king smiled, diverted. "Ah, but I am an Elf, and we are partial to lengthy tales which last for many days. Time is what we have aplenty."

"As you wish," Mithryn replied, and began her long story. She told him of her childhood in the Gladden Fields, and of the orc attack. Thranduil interrupted often, making enquiries as to details, much like Legolas had done. She told him of her little realm and passing long decades in virtual seclusion which brought concern to the king's noble face. When at last the tale was complete, he sat back, and gazed long into the burning fire. "What a mystery you are to me," the king said quietly, almost as though he were speaking to himself.

"No more than I am to myself. It can be a frightening prospect not knowing where you belong in the world and having none to turn to for guidance. Yet, it is not so when I am with Legolas for no longer do I feel lost or alone."

Thranduil turned to her, marveling at her tender words. Clearly could he see her sincere love for his son, just as there was no mistaking Legolas's genuine feeling for her. And yet, there lay something that could not be overlooked. "You have not had the company of Elves long, my dear, so I will tell you of Elves and love. It is not forbidden for an Elf to marry a mortal. Indeed, some have done so though the ages, but for the elf, that love can come at a dear price."

Without realizing it, Mithryn's face became serious, her hands trembling in her lap. She knew not what the king would say but did not like the doom in his words or the cold feeling forming in her heart.

He continued in a grave manner: "You know that we, when born, are given immortal life. As elves, we are not hindered by sickness, or the frailty of old age. That is our gift, but even so, we are not completely immortal. In battle we can be slain, and wounds may harm us. Love is equally as dangerous."

"Love? How so, my lord?"

"I begin by telling you the story of Aredwë. Her elven lineage matters not, but know that she fell in love with a mortal. Now, this was a very long time ago, however, her fate would not alter if they were alive today. She fell in love with Thargel, who was shortly thereafter killed in battle. Not being able to cope with such a loss, she died...of a broken heart."

"But...how?"

"I cannot describe to you the profound feelings my people endure. Let it be enough that the loss of a loved one can prove unbearable. If their heart is attached to a mortal, when the mortal dies, the elf must live on for all eternity alone. That prospect, that fate, elves see as damnation and not a gift, for elves seldom love more than one. They carry the memory and pain...so clearly...forever."

Mithryn's heart was breaking, but she would not allow herself to display such emotion before the mighty king. "Why do you tell me this?" she asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

"Not to cause you grief or pain; not to punish you. I thought you should know something of what we are. Of this, we cannot change." He paused, unsure of the proper words. "I feel it incumbent upon me to tell you that if Legolas and you wed, there is a very great danger of his passing from this life, and from all who care for him."

Her pain could not be concealed. She fell forward slightly, head down, palms flat on the table as she braced herself. A tear welled in her eye and escaped without a blink.

"Mithryn, I would not have you think me wholly against your betrothal, for I am not. Your affection for each other is clear, and I do wish my son to have happiness. Yet, you must see that though happiness it is, it will be short-lived."

She breathed deeply, and wiped away her salty tears. Her face was strong and commanding, her voice firm in purpose. "Aye, my lord. I do. I know what I must do. Thank you for being so kind to me. Know that I do not begrudge you having told me thus." She rose out of her seat, effectively terminating the meeting. He arose as well, now deeply concerned as to her meaning but reluctant to enquire. "Pray," she continued, "I hope you shall forgive my rudeness. I must see Legolas."

"Of course," Thranduil replied. She curtsied, and exited the room in deeply, desolated spirits.

Once alone, her steps fell slowly and laboriously in the winding corridor. All strength seemed removed from her knees, twice her hand having to seize the wall for support. "It is so unfair," she thought, hand covering her mouth, attempting to calm the sickening feeling that lurched in her stomach; happiness had almost been hers.

**Author's Note:** So, what do you think of Haldof?  I'd love to know your thoughts!

Also, if you want to be notified everytime I update, join the mailing list, and I'll let you know!


	11. The Future of Many

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know what you think!

**CHAPTER 11 -** **THE FUTURE OF MANY**

Mithryn exited the palace and stood on the delicately trellised bridge, hand covering her mouth. Composing herself once more, she strode off toward her cottage trying not to lose her way as the cabins all looked so similar.

Once inside her cozy chamber, she paced about the room in agitated spirits, thinking it best to calm herself before seeking Legolas. Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Mithryn pressed her hand to her stomach, trying to pacify the feeling of fluttering butterflies inside. "Enter," she said, nervously. The door opened wide and in strode Legolas. He approached hastily and grasped her tiny hands. "What did you and my father speak of for so long?" he demanded, eyes bearing down on hers.

"You know what was said."

Legolas's eyes turned away from the pain he saw in her face, and released her hands.

"Why did you not tell me?" she pleaded, voice shaking.

"It was a risk I knew you would not approve of," he said, standing at a window, looking out but seeing nothing.

"You were correct in your assumption. I want you to live forever, Legolas."

"Even if it meant being without you for all eternity? If I were to die, how well would you bear my passing?"

Mithryn choked as tears freely fell from her eyes. She knew the answer to his question, but could not bear to reply. The thought of his dying tore her heart apart. She could no more imagine life without him, then she could an after-life. Her own feelings cast aside, however, she would rather continue living a life alone than risk her beloved's immortal life. "Legolas, I think it best for me to go away. I fear I can no longer stay here."

Legolas turned quickly, his face distressed. "You wish to leave? Me? Here? Why? I do not understand! We have only just arrived." Panic streaked through his veins with a swifter, stronger potency than that of the Orc poison, and had a more devastating effect. At length he asked, hardly able to breath, "Do you not want to marry me?"

"Of course I do, Legolas. There is nothing my heart desires more. But, I cannot allow you to sacrifice your life for mine."

"It is by no means certain!"

"Legolas, our love, what we share together, is so uniquely special I cannot imagine either of us surviving if the other were taken. Can you? Your life is much more important to me than my own happiness. It is a risk not worth taking."

Mithryn turned, and began to collect her belongings. Her movements were reluctant, her whole body listless, but her mind would not be persuaded. Legolas watched her in horrified silence, words unable to leave his lips. Mithryn continued, "I think I shall go to Rivendell. It will be nice to travel. How I have hated living in fear all of these years. Later I may return to my little cottage. I will see where the world will take me. Think your father would write a letter to Lord Elrond for me? It is Lord Elrond, is it not?"

In two great strides, Legolas swept her into his tight embrace. "Do not do this, Mithryn. I beg of you; do not go."

Mithryn raised her teary eyes to his. "If I leave, you cannot watch me wither and die with time; you shall live your foreordained life; the life you were born to live...as an immortal Elf. When you truly love someone, you are willing to relinquish your own joy for their sake."

His strong arms did not relax; he still held her firmly in his grip, unwilling to relinquish her. Legolas closed his eyes in agony. "You know not what you ask of me, Mithryn. When you fade away, I shall live on, forever, never to see you again, never to speak with you, never to hold you. How can you wish to condemn me to such a life?"

"Because I love you, Legolas."

Pressing her close, she rested her head on his powerful chest. "You, therefore, leave me no choice." Gently stroking her head, his hand caressed her soft curls. "I would rather have you for whatever time you give me, then not at all. Every moment will I cherish." He leaned down, kissing her with trembling lips, his salty tears blending with her own on her soft cheek. Holding her securely, he said: "I swear I shall do whatever you ask of me to the best of my heart's ability. Above all else, I want you to be happy."

"I am happy with you," she said, hands reaching up to his silky face, wiping away the tears.

Haldof gazed upward to the overcast sky, clouds churning high above him. "Rain is nigh," he thought as he walked along the quiet forest floor. He stopped at the massive trunk of Belegaladh and leaned against it in deep contemplation.

"Think it will rain?" a voice sounded from above. Haldof turned hastily to see Legolas sitting alone, prominently in the boughs of the mighty tree.

"Why did you not tell me you were there?" Haldof scolded.

"I just did. Will you not come up?"

Haldof sighed and climbed up the gnarled tree. Though he sat beside Legolas, his mood remained irritable. Silence ensued while Legolas shrouded himself in a brooding gloom. Out of the corner of his eye, Haldof studied his brother closely, his disposition thawing at the sight of Legolas's despair. "Do you think Father is still in council with Mithryn?" Haldof said at last.

"How did you know he called her forth?"

"Galamed told me of it."

"Ah," Legolas said. "Nay, their meeting has ceased; I have seen her."

"And?"

"And..." Legolas continued, reluctantly, "and she will have none of it."

"What?" Haldof exclaimed in confusion.

"She threatened to leave if I would not promise to live on after she has gone."

Haldof's face softened with newfound esteem for the mortal. He had then only to regret his own conduct toward her, which now embarrassed him greatly.

"I know not how I shall live without her, Haldof, once she has passed." Legolas said, grief for the future weighing down upon him.

Turning to him, Haldof comfortingly placed a hand on Legolas's back. Though he could not approve of Mithryn, the love for his brother was foremost. Haldof sighed, relenting his hardened will. "Mithryn has lived a rather prolonged life for a mortal; is this not so?"

"Aye, it is true. Long has she resided in seclusion, aging slowly."

"Legolas, you know not how it will be in the future. She is a mortal, to be sure, but is afforded a much longer life than other mortals we know of. It is not certain how many years she has, of course, but I would think them plenty. What I mean is, this is a lot of drama for an event that is very far away, do you not think? You always were one for dramatics, and making a scene..."

The realization of these irrefutable words hit Legolas harder than any orc blow. His mind had been so filled with the thought of her eventual death, never did he think of the length of her life. Under these circumstances, she could, with all probability, live many centuries before leaving him.

Haldof continued when Legolas said naught. "You will not have eternity together, I admit; however, even if you were to wed an elf, there is still no certainty. You may yet be killed in battle. I say this only as an example. What I mean to say is, marry where your heart bids you, and be grateful of the time that is given to you. That is all anyone can hope for, I believe."

"Then, you are not opposed to her?"

"Nay," Haldof replied, slightly lying through his teeth. "I'll readily admit that the ramifications of a mortal wed to my brother did unhinge me, at first. But, if you choose to stay with us, I care not whom you marry...so long as it is not to a Dwarf-maiden!" Haldof said blithely, as he jocosely nudged his brother's arm. Legolas laughed, shaking his head at his brother's wry sense of humour.

"That, I could never consent to," Haldof continued. Legolas replied by giving him a playful push in brotherly fashion, forcing Haldof to quickly regain his precarious balance on the branch. Warm spring rain began to fall and, within minutes, both were drenched through. The brothers, however, cared little as Wood-elves have a bond with nature and feel joy in all weathers.

Suddenly, Galamed and Tarnil, equally saturated, ran to the base of Belegaladh, eyes searching through the foliage. "Legolas! Haldof!" they cried. "You must come!"

Seeing their brothers' alarm, Legolas and Haldof leaped out of the tree with aerialist alacrity, gracefully landing on the soaked ground. "What is it?" Legolas asked promptly.

"Elmarin; her time has come," Tarnil said attempting to catch his breath.

"The childbirth labour began last night," said Galamed, continuing. "Taranin was on watch, but none did Elmarin call to aid her."

"It was my understanding that Taranin had been relieved of his duties," Legolas said.

"Elmarin would hear none of it as she is weeks early," Galamed said, abashed.

"Taranin just returned from his watch and discovered her," Tarnil added, "and all does not go well."

Legolas, in haste, headed for the palace, and all followed his step. "Have the midwives been summoned?"

"Aye," said Galamed, "but Elmarin is past the age to beget children. I spoke to Narbeleth briefly, and she has much concern for Elmarin. And of the child..."

"Does Father know?" Haldof inquired.

"Aye," Tarnil answered, "but he is resigned to whatever the fates may bring. However, you know how long it has been since a child was born into our kingdom. If it should die..."

Legolas's rapid stride broke away from the path to the palace, and veered right. All three followed him, despite confusion. "Where are you going?" Haldof asked, baffled. Not answering, Legolas halted at Mithryn's cottage and knocked on the door. "Mithryn?!" There was no reply. He knocked loudly once more, and called her again, before opening the door. The room stood empty. The only movement came from the sapphire curtains blowing in the breeze. Legolas gazed about the lifeless room, a pool of water forming at his feet.

"Where is she?" Tarnil asked.

"I do not know." Legolas quickly exited the room, shutting the door. "We must find her!"

"Legolas, if you fear she has left you, now is not the time to search," Haldof said, indignantly. "Our kindred need our assistance!"

"Mithryn is an exceptional healer," Legolas explained, allowing his brother's foolish words to pass. "You know not her power. She could be of great help. What assistance could we be, Haldof? We know nothing of bringing Elves into the world."

"And what can Mithryn know of that matter?" rebuked Haldof, aggravated.

"It is not in the delivery where her strengths lie. We must find her if we wish to be of any aid to Elmarin and Taranin." The three nodded. "Tarnil, check the stables for Anfalas, her mare. Haldof and Galamed, scour the paths. She may be eastbound."

"And what of you?" inquired Haldof.

Legolas's thoughts sailed painfully back to Mithryn's words of Rivendell and Lord Elrond. "I must see Father. Go!" All four brothers ran with haste in various directions, sprinting with agile grace through the downpour of rain.

Legolas burst into the great hall to find, not his father, but a gathering of a hundred noble Elven lords and ladies, patiently waiting for news. Taranin sat, obviously distressed, but rose upon Legolas's entrance. "Have you word of Elmarin?" he asked, anxiously.

"Nay, I am the bearer of no news yet, Taranin, but I have not relinquished all hope. Where is my father?"

"He has retired to his study, I believe."

Legolas hurried off through the labyrinth of passageways to the king's private library. Without knocking, he burst into the room to see his father seated at the long, oak table, composing a letter. Legolas hastily approached him, his dripping hair accidently causing a spray of water to land upon the letter.

"Legolas! Now I must begin anew!"

"Father, to whom are you writing?"

"Elrond," the king replied, perturbed, pulling out another piece of parchment. "And truly, Legolas, please master the custom of knocking prior to entering."

"Father, do not do this!" Legolas cried in desperation.

Thranduil gazed up at his son with puzzled eyes. "You confuse me, Legolas. Why must I not write to Elrond?"

"Father, Mithryn must be confused...or doubtful of my veracity! Pray, do not write this letter for her! You cannot wish her to leave!"

Blinking, Thranduil responded: "I assure you, she has made no such request. This letter only solicits news of Mithrandir, of whom I worry greatly."

Outwardly, Legolas merely stood gaping; inwardly, he was condemning his own blatant conjecture, insecurity and lack of trust. "I am sorry, Father. It appears it is I who am confused."

"Yes, yes, I am not surprised at all, for you never change. If you seek Mithryn, she was last entertaining herself in the Archives."

Legolas exited quickly, stepping with light feet down the winding corridors to the Archives Chamber. Enormous bookshelves rose to the high, vaulted ceiling. Crumbling rolls of parchment, and ancient, cracked books filled the shelves. When Legolas stepped into the chamber, he saw Mithryn sitting in a chair, reading a book by flickering candlelight. "Mithryn," he called.

She looked up, and smiled. "Legolas! Why, you are soaked through! Is it raining, or did Haldof throw you in the river again?" she said, leaving the book open on the table.

A laugh escaped Legolas. "Nay, it rains. Mithryn, listen. You must come with me."

She rose, instantly concerned. "You are distressed; what has happened?"

"It is Elmarin. Please, you must come!"

As he led her through the maze of passages, he told her of Elmarin's difficulty. Her face contorted with trepidation and fright. "But Legolas, I am not a physician! I know nothing of delivering infants! What aid can you suppose I would be?"

"In truth, I know not," he said as they stepped outside and into the rain. They ran swiftly to the Elven tower where Elmarin resided, and climbed the exterior, spiraling stairs until, at last, they reached the landing and her door.

"Legolas, this is not my expertise. I do not wish to disappoint you, but I know not what to do."

"You could never disappoint me, Mithryn," he said, grasping her soaked arms. The rain began to lessen, now merely trickling down their faces. "Fewer Elves are brought now into the world than in the past. For Elmarin, there is a danger." He looked away, slightly embarrassed; it was not polite to speak of such things. "She has passed her time of childbearing, you understand. I know you may not be able to help, but please try. This is important to all of my people."

Mithryn gazed into his strong face. "I will do all within my power."

Embracing her, he kissed her lips, wet with rainwater. He knocked on the door, and shortly an Elf-matron answered, curtsying upon sight of the prince. "There is nothing new to report, Legolas."

"How does she fare?" he asked.

The lady glanced back into the room. "I fear her strength is waning," she whispered.

"Narbeleth, as you know, this is the Lady Mithryn. She may be of assistance as she is gifted in the art of healing."

Narbeleth opened wide the door. "Pray, enter and aid as you can."

Mithryn stepped in, and Narbeleth gently closed the door, leaving Legolas standing on the landing. The room was vast, with an open balcony; Elmarin lay, restlessly, in the massive bed. Three other midwives were present, all of whom wore crisp, white aprons. Narbeleth handed one to Mithryn as well as a towel to dry herself. "Thank you," she said, gratefully accepting. Approaching the bed, she sat upon a stool next to the weak Elf. Elmarin was much altered. Her face was white as snow; all energy and willpower seemed drained from her body. Her blue eyes opened at last when Mithryn held her warm hand.

"Mithryn, you are here? How wonderfully...cool...your touch is."

"Legolas felt I might be able to assist you in your time."

Elmarin breathed short breaths, face drawn and strained. "It has been many hours. I have no strength left," she whispered. She turned to Mithryn, blue eyes turning red with despondent tears. She struggled to find the energy to say the words in her heart. "I do not want to lose my child."

Mithryn's soul was deeply touched by the sight of her beauty, her pain and her hopelessness. Suddenly, all became clear to Mithryn. "Then I shall lend you my strength." While the wise healers gazed in curious wonder, Mithryn clenched her small fist, blew a breath of warm air upon it, and opened to reveal an orb of green flame. Slowly, she moved her hand until she was palm to palm with Elmarin's, clamped tightly together.

Elmarin's eyes opened wide with new vitality. She looked over at Mithryn to see her eyes closed, mind and body focused in purpose. Narbeleth lay upon the bed, feeling the child within. "It moves," she said excitedly. The child is much stronger now." A sharp pain shot through Elmarin's body; the contractions had begun again, but she was ever careful not to break this strange electrical connection between her and Mithryn.

"The child is ready," one of the midwives said, preparing the cloth and bringing forward a large basin of warm water and fresh towels, which she placed on the table nearby.

"I have strength now," Elmarin said, gratefully gazing upon Mithryn, who was sitting as motionless as a statue.

Legolas had not returned to the Elves waiting fretfully in the grand hall. Sitting on the step outside Elmarin's door, he lingered uneasily, hardly hearing the beautiful, quiet song filling the air which many Elven ladies sang in support of their struggling sister. The rain had stopped, and the sky opened to reveal the husky glow of sunset. Abruptly, Haldof, Tarnil and Galamed ran to the stairwell. "Legolas!" they cried. He rushed down to them.

"We are sorry, Legolas, but we could find no evidence of Mithryn's trail, and Anfalas is still in her stall," Tarnil explained.

"Nay, it is I who am sorry, brothers. I found her in the Archives. She is now with Elmarin."

Each of his brothers let out an annoyed huff. "We have been running all over the kingdom for you, and you did not have the intellect to send a messenger to us?!" Haldof blasted.

Legolas was about to reply that his mind had been full of other thoughts, when his answer was interrupted with the distinct, shrill cry from a newborn babe. All heated temperaments melted away in relief, and they embraced each other for the blessed event which had just occurred. "Tarnil, go and inform Father. Galamed, you must do the same to Taranin and the others," Legolas said, and they both dashed off, on merry missions. Legolas and Haldof stood, arms about each other's shoulders, gazing up at the terrace, delightfully anticipating another sign. Soon, iavin could be heard from every quarter sounding the joyful news.

Elves rushed from the halls, Taranin in front. He bolted up the winding stair, and was welcomed by Narbeleth who swung open the door for him. The exhilarated crowd waited in breathless anticipation, staring ever upward at the balcony which showed no movement. Suddenly, Taranin stepped into view, but his face bore definite signs of concern. "Legolas," he called down to him. "You should come," he said before once again disappearing from view. A prescient silence fell over the gathering. Legolas's heart beat wildly as he bounded up the steps and into the room. At first, there was nothing alarming to be seen; Elmarin was resting peacefully in the bed, two midwives were happily bathing the newborn, and, it then struck him, that Mithryn was nowhere to be seen. Taranin suddenly rose from the floor, and beckoned Legolas to his side. As he did so, he found Mithryn sprawled unconscious with Narbeleth beside her, bathing Mithryn's face with a cool, damp cloth.

"What happened to her?!" Legolas demanded, kneeling.

"She is drained of strength, but should recover soon," Narbeleth replied kindly, handing him the cloth and leaving him to tend Mithryn. Taranin comforted his weary wife with soft words, stroking her cheek and then poured her a glass of elven tonic to aid in her recovery.

Legolas cradled Mithryn's head on his lap; her lethargic eyes opened slowly. "I fainted," she said in a soft whisper.

He sighed a breath of relief. "You did. Think you can rise?" Legolas asked, apprehensively.

"I believe so," Mithryn said, sitting up. Fatigued and debilitated, she started to fall once more, but his strong arms were already there to catch her. "I feel a trifle lightheaded," she said while attempting to make the room stop spinning.

"I think you had better return to your cabin for rest," he said, helping her to her feet and holding tight so she would not fall. Nodding her reply, he began to walk her slowly out and carefully guided her down the steps. Curious onlookers gazed at the pair, but little was said. Their attention was quickly diverted when Taranin arrived upon the terrace, proudly carrying his small daughter, Finaviel. The gathering broke out into melodious song, welcoming the new member of their kindred. All wished to gaze upon the young life that was most felicitously brought to them. It had been many hundreds of years since a child was born into the kingdom, and when one arrived, it was always a sacred, mystical event, resulting in convivial celebration and ancient ritual ceremony to welcome their new relation into their fold. Legolas had borne Mithryn away, steadying her steps with his arm clasped firmly around her waist. Opening her cottage door, he led her inside and carefully set her upon the bed, ever mindful of propriety.

"Are you certain you are well? Shall I send for the healers? Perhaps some tonic? I do not believe you recovered yet."

"Nay," Mithryn pleaded, arms holding herself up. "Rest is all I require. I simply feel...a little...frail."

Legolas guiltily looked at her. "I am sorry. It was wrong of me to goad you into such a situation; I am responsible."

"Legolas," she said, fatigued, "I am pleased to have helped Elmarin. This languor occurs when I over strenuously use my abilities. Do not reproach yourself, I beg of you. I have a will of my own, you know."

Legolas smiled, but could see her weaken. "You comfort me, Mithryn, and I shall leave you now. Thank you again, for what you did; it was most noble."

Mithryn, however, did not hear, as she fell into a restful slumber on the bed. Legolas lovingly gazed at her momentarily and carefully placed a coverlet over her before quietly exiting and returned to the celebrations.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think!


	12. The Mischif Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know what you think!!!  I don't need much, but every word of encouragement helps!

**CHAPTER 12 - THE MISCHIF MAKER**

Weeks had passed and both Mithryn and Elmarin fully regained strength and health. Mithryn's actions during Finaviel's birth had been revealed to all and she was now viewed with a newfound respect. Next to her betrothed, Mithryn's closest companion was Elmarin, and it was under her supervision that Mithryn's wardrobe be filled with richly adorned gowns, all elven in style, cloth, and grace. She and Elmarin spent many merry hours conversing while the men of the royal household busied themselves with the  
responsibilities of ruling a kingdom. Legolas always made time to spend with Mithryn despite the burden of court duties. It was evident to him that his father was preparing him for the time when he would be king. Legolas could not see himself as Mirkwood's ruler, but did not complain. It was his duty and he accepted it.

Word had also spread of Legolas's betrothal, and preparations for the upcoming nuptials were already taking place with growing excitement. The festivities were expected to be of the highest order as Thranduil was sparing no expense, Legolas being the first of his sons to wed. Elmarin taught Mithryn the details and intricacies of Elvish customs, and numerous times Mithryn's emotions varied from confused to awe struck. Her Sindarin was not admirable, but she worked hard at speaking correctly and eloquently the language of her new family. Elmarin was a patient and gentle tutor.

Days grew longer and warmer with the month of May. Mithryn grew accustomed to the woods and loved exploring all of its hidden treasures and secrets. Often Legolas would go with her; they playfully chased, hid and searched for each other like children.

It suddenly struck Legolas, on one of these mischievous occasions, how much it felt as if she had always been there, by his side. He knew it was not so, and yet, her laugh, smile, and cheerful nature all seemed agelessly familiar. He dared not think of how many years this bliss would last before the inevitable. He simply refrained from putting such rueful thoughts into his mind and, instead, focused on the joy he was experiencing at that moment, consciously retaining every detail.

"Your mind is elsewhere. Where are you?" Mithryn playfully asked a withdrawn Legolas.

Upon hearing her voice, he broke free from meditation. "Merely thinking of the future, my love."

"Not too far into the future, I hope."

"Nay," he said, stroking her cheek. "Do you have any regrets, staying here, and not going to Rivendell?"

"How could I, happy here as I am? And I shall remain so long as you keep your word." An impish grin spread over her face. "And just so long as you cannot catch me!" she said, jumping up and bolting down the path. He quickly took chase and was approaching her fast when she stopped suddenly, holding out  
her right hand, palm facing him. Halting in his tracks, Legolas felt a resistance in the space in front of him, preventing him from pursuing her. "Are you using your power against me?" he asked with a note of sarcasm and humour.

"You are an Elf and, therefore, have a slight advantage over me in terms of speed. I cannot let you win all the time," she said, laughingly.

"Let me win? We shall see about that!" he replied, now struggling against the invisible force. Mithryn shrieked and ran into the palace. The force collapsed and, stumbling, Legolas quickly pursued.

Thranduil stood in his immense reception hall, hastily breaking the seal on a scroll. The Elf messenger stood patiently, waiting at a distance. Thranduil read the message over; his face showing his displeasure. Its contents did not contain comforting news. "How was Lord Elrond when you saw him last?"

"Very well, your majesty. Mithrandir had just left prior to my arrival, Lord Elrond bade me tell you."

"And do you know of Mithrandir's direction?"

Their conversation was interrupted by the exuberant laughter of Mithryn as she sprinted past the hall. Both elves stood and  
stared, somewhat shocked, as they did not hear her approach. They blinked at each other before the Messenger regained his lost thought. "Uh...I do. He was setting forth for Isengard to see the head of his order, so Lord Elrond told me."

A servant carrying a tray of food and wine stepped into the doorway and promptly collided with a running Legolas. The silver platter hit the floor with a resounding clang, showering the meal everywhere. Legolas stumbled awkwardly over the elf while apologizing profusely.

"Legolas," the king said in an authoritative tone, "come here, please." Turning to the messenger, he added, "Thank you. That is all."

The messenger bowed and made to exit, stepping gingerly around the spray of victuals on the floor, while a servant quickly set to work cleaning the mess. Legolas took one more glance down the corridor in Mithryn's direction before obeying his father's command and went to his side.

Thranduil cast his son another displeased look, saying naught.

"I am sorry, Father," Legolas said, bashfully.

The king sighed and handed his son the parchment. "Read this. As the heir to the throne, you should know these goings on as well as I."

Legolas unrolled the letter and gazed at the gracefully flowing script. "Dear Thranduil," he read aloud. "It is as we have feared. Pray keep whom you guard safe as these are uncertain times. I go now to confer with the wise. Yours in haste, Mithrandir." Legolas set the letter down, his brow furrowed in confusion. "He speaks in riddles. What can his meaning be?"

"I believe he feared the letter would be intercepted," he whispered. "In your absence, Legolas, we have discovered that the One Ring has been found."

Legolas gaped at his calm father. "Is it certain?" he asked, finally.

Thranduil took the document, rereading the puzzling words. "This letter confirms it. While you were away, he was here, as was Aragorn."

"So Tarnil told me. We have a prisoner, I know. I have seen him while the sentries take him into the wood at nightfall. Is he the prisoner which Mithrandir refers to?"

"Aye. He is Gollum for whom even you searched."

"So, that is the creature! What black deeds bind him to the Ring?" Legolas asked somberly upon hearing this news.

"Many, but to what degree, it is not known. We must be vigilant."

Apprehension filled their thoughts. Legolas gazed at his troubled father knowing there was nothing that he could do to help. "What do you think Mithrandir intends with the One Ring? Possession of it brings untold dangers that could effect all of Middle Earth. What shall be done?"

Thranduil sat in his great chair by the fire, staring into the dying embers. "Indeed, what can be done? I know not, my son, but I fear for us all."

Mithryn, meanwhile, had frolicked spiritedly along the myriad of corridors leading down into darkness. While hiding in a shadowed corner, her jovial eyes stared expectantly at the doorway, ready to leap out on the unsuspecting, pursuing Legolas. Suddenly, a sharp hiss was heard from behind. Her smile vanished, realizing she was not alone. Turning, she saw a large wooden door with thick, metal bars. Stepping closer, she hesitantly called, "Hello? Is someone there?" Her voice echoed in the vast, unlit abyss. Distinct shuffling behind the fortified door caused Mithryn's steps to cease, and her body to stiffen with fear. She stood in horror, wondering what sort of creature would require such confinement.

Two large, pale, green eyes glowed in the dank gloom between the bars of the cell. "What'sss this, my Precious? It is not an elf, no; it's not a nasty elf with bright eyesss. What is it?"

"I...I am called Mithryn," she said, stumbling over her words.

"Pr'aps it stays here and talks with us a bitsy," Gollum said, voice now sweet and silky.

"No, I really must be getting back," Mithryn said, trying to be polite but turning to leave.

Gollum let out a piteous wail which filled the enormous room and resonated loudly down the empty passages. "Don't leaves us alone! We's is always ssso alone! Stay. Stay and talks with us a bitsy. Pleeeassse?"

Mithryn's heart went out to the pathetic, lonesome creature, and yet, she was wary because of his being in a cell. Knowing Thranduil to be a wise and capable king, and trusting her intuition, she was skeptical of this seemingly helpless creature. "I suppose I can stay a moment. Why are you imprisoned?" she asked warily, stepping closer, straining to see the obscured figure through the dark shroud.

"Nasty Elveses! And nasty Man! He captures us! Yes, my Precious. We didn't do it...no...nothing!" Gollum cried, hands tightly gripping the bars. **" _Gollum!_ "**

Legolas's voice echoed through the myriad of caverns that made up the palace. Mithryn turned at the call of her name. "I am called," she said. "I must go."

"No! No!" Gollum cried, his hand reaching out to stop her, but could not reach. "Do not leave us! They will kill us!"

Mithryn stopped, but heard her name again. "I must go. I will try to come again."

Gollum's pathetic wails of protest followed Mithryn as she hurried up the flight of steps, running straight into Legolas.

"Mithryn!" Legolas said. "I have been searching for you." Upon hearing Gollum's laments, he gazed at her skeptically. "Have you been down to the dungeons?"

She knew not why she said it. Perhaps it was fear of a scold, or the thought that she knew she was not where she should have been, but she quickly replied, "Nay. I got lost, you see. These passageways are a maze to me."

Immediately, Legolas softened. "I understand. But you must not go that way. It is dangerous."

Together, they walked out of the palace, and into fresh air and sunlight. Gollum's cries could no longer be heard, but Mithryn felt certain that they were continuing, still. At length, she harnessed enough courage to ask, as nonchalantly as possible, "What creature was making those cries? He was not being tortured, was he? I had supposed you Elves to be such gentle folk."

Legolas smiled, and seemed not at all suspicious of her questions. "We are gentle, to be sure, to what is wise and good. But to our enemies, we are, I like to think, formidable. To our prisoners, we are always kind, but wary."

"Then I pity those who betray your trust. Did you not mention something before concerning Dwarves?"

"That story is very old, but not forgotten. A great wrong was done long ago by the Dwarves, and forgiveness has never been given. Since that time, I fear, we have become enemies."

"Then, that creature..."

"Nay," Legolas said, smiling and wrapping her hand around his arm, "that was no Dwarf. In all honesty, I know not precisely what that creature is. But let us talk no more of him. It is such a splendid day. Shall we not walk by the lake?"

Mithryn nodded merrily, and despite her curiosity, did not venture to inquire any further. It was not until dinner the next evening that the subject of the prisoner arose again. They royal family sat conversing about stories of old when a guard interrupted, informing his lordship that the prisoner wished to go out again tonight. Mithryn's ears immediately perked up.

Thranduil sighed. "Very well, but send eight guards instead of six tonight. The moon is not very full."

The guard bowed, and marched away.

"Father," Haldof said in a warning voice, "he is where he belongs. You are too generous to that villain. Only consider if he escaped!"

Thranduil raised an indignant eyebrow. "Thank you, young one, but we are not, ourselves, savages. To our prisoners we must be kind, but careful. We are not mercenary."

Enthralled over this new mystery, Mithryn watched the conversation unfold, until she felt as though someone were watching her. Intuitively turning in the correct direction, she caught the eye of Haldof who was observing her with the most curious of expressions. Feeling as though he could see through her, she turned away, and began to study her plate, instead.

Mithryn would not see the mysterious creature again for two more days. It was upon a cold, wet spring afternoon that she found herself with naught to do. Prior to leaving for his duties, Legolas suggested that Mithryn might wish to explore the library some more, and search out a book to read by the fire. Taking a liking to his suggestion, she made her way through the enterance doors, and into the cavernous palace.

She had lost her way only once, and then finally found her way to the deserted library. She opened the door, but heard an echoing cry coming from the palace depths. There was no doubt as to who was weeping, and Mithryn's curiosity overcame her wisdom. Following the whimpers, she went back down into the gloomy dungeon.

Mithryn had tried to be as quiet as a mouse, but Gollum's ears had perked up to her soft footfalls, and his moaning ceased immediately. At first he thought her a nasty elf, but no. He crept up to the door of his cage and peered through the iron bars. It was the girl! "She will set us free, Precious," he thought wickedly, "or she will be sorry, Precious." He opened his foul mouth again, and began an outcry of agony.

Halting her steps immediately, Mithryn peered into the shadowy vault, straining for her eyes to adjust. "Hello?" she whispered softly. Too softly, she thought at first, but the prisoner's laments abruptly died.

"Who is there?" Gollum said, his voice weak and pitiful. "Do not harm us!"

"It is I, Mithryn," she said as she slowly made her way down the steps. "I will not harm you."

"You did not come!" Gollum said, his lantern eyes shining out through the bars. "Promise, you did, and keep it you did not."

"I am here now. I am sorry I could not come sooner. I had no opportunity, you see."

Gollum sighed, "Too busy, she is. Yesss, Precious. Running under tree, stars, and shadow. Being free." Another great wail escaped Gollum's lungs. "Cruel, cruel Elves! They hurts us, and starves us when we is innocent!"

"Innocent of what? What have they convicted you of?"

"We does not know!" Gollum said pitiously. "Captured we were, and beaten, yesss, Precious! Imprisoned! Never say, no they don't. Never say what our crime is. PLEASE!" he exclaimed, reaching out his gangly hand toward her. "Let us free!"

"You must understand...I cannot. The king...Legolas...they would be so angry! Perhaps I could speak to the king on your behalf..."

Gollum let out the loudest and most pathetic of all his sobs and sank to the cell floor in seemingly dispair. Feeling for the miserable wretch, Mithryn stepped up to the cell, and gazed in through the filthy bars. "I promise to do what I..." Without warning, Gollum's hand shot up through the bars, taking strong  
grasp of Mithryn's tiny wrist. His face revealed the true nature of his wicked character. Mithryn screamed in fright, and pulled away to no avail. Gollum's grip was too great. "LET US OUT!!!" he commanded.

"No!" Mithryn screamed, pulling her arm until it ached. His gruesome mouth bent down to bite her, when in a flash, her right hand flew up and the exploding force sent Gollum flying into the back wall of his cell. He dropped to the floor, whimpering wretchedly like a wounded animal. Mithryn fell also and nervously pushed herself backward until she touched the far wall. She sat there, shaking, tenderly rubbing her sore wrist  
while " _ **gollums**_ " resounded in the vast cave.

Suddenly, Haldof was beside her, kneeling, having bolted down the steps. "Mithryn! You should not be here!" She turned to him, trembling. Glancing at the cell where Gollum's incessant moaning surged, he quickly assessed the situation. "Come, let us away," he said, helping her rise, and walked her out of the gloom and into the light.

They did not speak as they walked, and at one point Mithryn curiously looked down at her hand to see Haldof still holding it. They stopped outside the library. He let go of her and turned to face her, his eyes full of reproach. "That was very foolish of you, Mithryn," he scolded.

"I...lost my way," she fibbed. She would have told the truth to Legolas, but to his bullying brother, she would not. However, he did not seem to believe her.

"Do not spin me such tales, for I know you have more wit than deceit. Telling falsities is something you should never do, Mithryn. It is not one of your strong suits."

She was attempting to think of a witty retort when his gaze happened to glance down at her wrist, which already showed signs of yellow bruising. "He hurt you?!" he demanded, eyeing it attentively, and picking it up to examine it more closely.

"A little; it will heal," she said moving it away. "It was my own error. Never should I have approached so closely to his cell."

"In that we both agree! This is, in point of fact, all due to a grave misjudgement on your part! What can you have been thinking of? You must have thought him put there for a purpose," he said, his tone darkening.

"What do you accuse me of? Do you suspect me of trying to free him?"

"Gollum is not to be trusted. I cannot tell you how incredibly treacherous he is. But, given what I believe has just occurred between the two of you, I do not feel you need another lesson. If you promise me you will not attempt to visit him again, I am sure I need to mention this matter to Legolas...or Father."

Humbily, Mithryn nodded, and Haldof left without another word. He irritated her exceedingly, and yet she was grateful that he was not going to tell anyone how foolish she had been.

Each night when the sun set its fiery light, it seemed to Mithryn that the Elves came alive under the starlit sky. It was their time of worship, their time of praise.

Mithryn continued to view the nightly celebrations with wonder. This night, however, the king gave an inspirational speech that had great emotional effect on the elves, but, of which she understood little. Legolas remained by her side the entire evening of which she was evermore grateful; she felt he protected her from Haldof who endlessly eyed her darkly with a furrowed brow. To Mithryn, everyone present appeared happy, and yet, she could discern an underlying sorrow in the atmosphere. "Are all here melancholy, or do I mistake?" she whispered to Legolas.

"Nay, you are very intuitive. This is a sad time."

"Why?"

"Tomorrow many of our kin shall be departing for the Grey Havens; I have told you this."

"Nay, you did not."

Surprised, Legolas turned to her. "Aye, I did."

Mithryn smiled, knowingly, and shook her head. "Nay, you did not."

"Forgive me. I cannot think how it could have slipped my mind."

"You are frequently busy with duty; I am not angry. Indeed, now it all is clear to me. They shall never return to Middle Earth."

Mithryn looked at the group of fair, pale faces all bearing smiles. Tears on these occasions were considered poor form by tradition, Legolas noted to her. All evening, small groups of people embraced, whispering together, only to break apart and form other groups. Messages in rolled parchment were passed to  
those departing. They gazed about themselves capturing the last few moments of the only home they had ever known before embarking on the greatest journey of their long lifetimes. She knew that, after the morning dawn, she would never see some of them again; it pained her as well. "Legolas had spoken sincerely," she thought. "It truly is all coming to an end."

Suddenly, Mithryn noticed a lone elf standing away from the festivities, listening with a forlorn face to the melodious tunes. "Legolas," she said, placing her soft hand on his. "Is that not Tarnil, standing alone?"

Seeing his brother leaning against a tree, Legolas nodded. "Aye, that is he."

"Do you not think you should join him? He looks greatly affected by these events. Go to him."

"You do not mind my leaving for a short time?"

"Fear not, Legolas," Haldof said, joining the pair. I shall watch over Mithryn in your absence.

Legolas smiled a greatful grin, and walked off to join his other brother. Mithryn, however, was in inner turmoil. What could Haldof have to say to her? What was his intention now? Blackmail?

"So," Haldof began. "Have you told Legolas of your little adventure?"

"Nay," Mithryn said defensively. "And you promised you would not speak either. It is of no consequence, anyway. I have nothing to hide from him. I meant no wrong."

"Then why have you not told him? Has he not seen your bruised wrist?" Haldof gazed down at her bare wrist to see no evidence at all of any assault. "What is this? More of your magical trickery?"

"It is no trickery. I heal quickly, that is all. And if you mean to tell Legolas, tell him. You cannot hold it over my head in this way. For if you do, I shall tell Legolas the truth, and how you knew about it."

"Have it your way, then. Tell him." Haldof then smiled a devilish grin, and strode on his way. Mithryn knew not what to make of him. Was he friend or foe? What were his intentions? Did he mean to banish her, or simply make her suffer? She knew one thing for certain: he would never love her as a sister.

Meanwhiile, Legolas's thoughts had been on his cheerless brother. "How do you fare tonight, Tarnil?"

"Was Mithryn concerned for me?" Tarnil asked, ignoring Legolas's question.

After a quick glance back at his betrothed, Legolas replied, "You always did have keener ears than the rest of us. Aye, she felt that you seemed slightly downcast tonight. Is it so?"

"Perhaps a little."

"I feel it as well," Legolas said as he leaned against the tall trunk beside Tarnil. "In truth, I cannot imagine ever wanting to leave here."

"And that, Brother," Tarnil said gently, "is where we differ. And perhaps where I differ from Haldof and Galamed as well."

"Of what can you mean?" Legolas said, staring into his brother's saddened eyes.

"Please understand that I tell this to you and no other, that I feel, and have for some time, the urge to depart. These woods shall forever be my home, and my heart cries at the thought of leaving them, yet, I long to see the broad vastness of the sea."

Legolas's face bore that of heartache upon hearing his brother's words. Here it was that he, who had plans never to part Middle Earth, faced Tarnil, his beloved brother, who wished to vacate it forever. "Do you intend to leave with them at dawn?"

"Nay. My heart wishes to part with them, to set sail. Yet, one thing prevents me. It, alone, is the only reason I have not yet embarked."

"What is the reason?"

"Galamed. I know that family comes before personal want, and Galamed is not ready to leave. A long time ago, when we were but children, we made an oath not to leave without the other; that is a pledge I feel honour bound to keep. When he is willing, we shall depart together. You and Haldof were always so close; thick as dwarves, Mother used to say."

Legolas laughed, in memory. "Mother; how I miss her. It would have been admirable if it had been you who delivered our messages to her. How delighted she would be to behold you and Galamed again." Legolas said, dreaming aloud. "How long have you desired this?"

Tarnil sighed, face turned downward. "It has been many years, now."

"Does Galamed know of your desire?"

"Nay, I could not tell him. He would surely consent to my desires, and refuse his own. That is Galamed; never does he wish to be a burden to any. But, nay, Legolas. Though the want is great, I will wait for him to be ready." Tarnil took one last long glance at the sad partings of the Elves before strolling away into the enveloping darkness of the forest.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think!!!  I don't need much, but every word of encouragement helps!


	13. I Bind Myself to Thee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are better than Legolas on his wedding night.  Please leave me one!

**CHAPTER 13 -** **I BIND MYSELF TO THEE**

While Mithryn had lived lonesome and secluded, time passed slowly, altering little with the seasons and years, much as it was with the Elves. Now, each day for her was merry, for no longer was she lonely. May was coming to an end and the birth of June was being celebrated with the much anticipated wedding of

the king's eldest son. Legolas was disappointed that some of those whom he held dear in friendship could not be present, namely Mithrandir and Aragorn. However, he understood their plight, and, like his father, was concerned for their safety. On the eve of Legolas's marriage, however, they could not have been farther from his mind for so enthralled was he with thoughts of the morrow.

Closing her cottage door, Mithryn stepped into the cloak of darkness that was the night. The air was warm and fresh, fragrant with the drowsy scent of woodland flowers. She glanced quickly about before bounding away into the depths of the wold. It was not forbidden to wander the thicket at night, far from it, in fact. Elves venerated the stars and moon and gloried in their abundant radiance. However, this night, Mithryn did not wish to be seen; Legolas had asked to meet her in secret.

At last, she reached her desired destination. Belegaladh slept, her leaves sparkling in the pearly moonlight. Mithryn turned and saw Legolas approach.

"Did any see you?" he inquired, hair shining in the pale light.

"I do not think so," Mithryn whispered, "but you Elves are so mischievous. Always up trees and so quiet; one never knows where you are."

He laughed jovially before pulling out a long band of cloth from his green doublet. "I have something to show you," he said, eyes full of mystery.

"That piece of cloth?" Mithryn asked, pointing to the strip of silk.

"No. Uh, I fear I must blindfold you."

"We are to be wed tomorrow. Do you not trust me?" Mithryn asked with large, blinking eyes, hoping to shame him into showing her his secret without the use of a shield.

Her plan worked for a moment, before he caught on to her weedily ways. "And you refer to my people as being mischievous!" he said, laughing.

"Oh, very well," she said, relenting.

He placed the silky band over her closed eyes and leaned in close to her ear. "I trust you," he whispered. Then, taking her two hands in his, he slowly led her deeper into the mystical realm of his people. Her steps came slowly but never did he allow root or stone to trip her.

"You understand, of course," she said as they made their way along slowly, "that it is dark, and I have not the eyes of an elf; I could not find my way back. So really, this blindfold is most unnecessary."

He stopped leading her and simply held her hands. "That is not the reason for your eyes being concealed."

"How much farther?" she said, beginning to become impatient.

His delicate fingers untied the shield. "We have arrived."

As he pulled away the cloth, she could not help gasping upon the sight her eyes beheld. In front of her lay a beautiful pond encircled by ancient willow trees, their drooping branches dipping into the still water. Afloat on the pond were dozens of tiny, flickering candles upon large, green leaves. The little glowing fires cast a warm, mystical glow upon the circlet of trees.

"How beautiful," Mithryn whispered in awe. "Did you do this?"

Legolas nodded as he stared adoringly at her. "It is the custom of my people. The night prior to one's wedding, the bridegroom takes his future wife here and performs an ancient, sacred ceremony."

"What kind of ceremony?"

Legolas, standing behind her, drew her close and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Each candle represents a wish, a hope for our future together."

Mithryn looked at the many floating candles. "You hope a great deal," she said, laughing. "Of what did you wish?" she asked as she turned to face him.

"Many things. Sadly, they have all slipped my mind now," he said teasingly.

"You jest! Will you not tell me?"

"Tomorrow," Legolas said, caressing her face. "I shall tell you tomorrow."

Mithryn turned and stared delightedly at the enchanting gift. "Do you believe any shall come true?"

"That is my greatest wish of all. If only one does, I shall be forever grateful. However, the ritual is not yet complete. One step remains of which only you can perform."

"What must I do?"

Legolas, taking her hand, lead her through the curtain of willow branches to the water's edge where they knelt on the cool grass. Selecting a candle set upon a large leaf, he gently handed it to her. He then reached out over the bank, attempting to grasp a floating, lit candle, when Mithryn placed a hand on his arm.

"Nay, Legolas. I do not require a light." Once again he gazed at her with fascination as she created a golden orb of flame in her hand. In the darkness, her fire illuminated their faces, lighting their eyes with fire. With masterly ability, she held the sphere, turning it slowly upside down to light her candle. When the wick was lit and glowed with radiance, another breath from her lips promptly extinguished the flame in her hand.

"I shall never tire of seeing you do that," Legolas said, impressed.

"What now?" she said, holding the leaf, beaming softly with reflected light in her hands.

"Close your eyes and make one silent wish for our future together. Take your time; we have plenty."

She did as he bade, thinking of her deepest wishes and most heartfelt desires for the time they were to share. When her greatest hopes and aspirations had been determined, she at last opened her eyes. "It is chosen."

"You have now only to set the leaf onto the water and let it sail."

Mithryn, following his instruction, gently placed the flickering candle in the cool water; they watched it as it floated away joining the other wishes and dreams. Legolas pulled her into his embrace. "What did you wish for?"

"Tomorrow," she replied, caressing his face. "I shall tell you tomorrow."

After Legolas escorted Mithryn back to her cottage, he entered the palace with spirits so high they seemed to soar. Walking past his father's study en route to his bedchamber, he heard a voice call him back from within. Legolas turned and peered into the open doorway; Thranduil stood in the dimmed room, alone.

"Did you wish to see me, Father?"

"Yes, could you come in a moment?" Thranduil asked; a look of concern was cast over his fair face.

Legolas stepped in, approaching him. "Does something disturb you, Father?"

"Son, why were you not at the banquet tonight? I noticed Mithryn there but she departed early."

"You know the reason for my absence. I am a bridegroom; tomorrow is the day of our union."

"You performed the ceremony?"

"Of course," Legolas said, now greatly confused as to his father's meaning in all these questions, for already did he know the answers. "Father, why do you question me?"

Thranduil sighed. "Son, I feel it my duty to enquire if your heart is attached absolutely to this decision to wed Mithryn."

Legolas's heart sank. His face could not hide the disappointment those words brought to his spirit. "We are to be wed tomorrow!" he exclaimed with a note of determination. "I know you have always disapproved of Mithryn..."

"Nay, I do not disapprove of Mithryn," the king interrupted.

"Is that a fact? Why else would you not wish me to marry her?!"

"Because it is dangerous!" Thranduil said, feelingly. "To bind yourself to a mortal is dangerous, my son; for you, as well as those around you. You place all our hearts at risk for Mithryn's sake."

Legolas shook his head, not allowing any heartfelt tears to fall. "Not for Mithryn's sake, Father. For my sake. I love her, and I had hopes that those around me would wish me to be happy no matter where my heart lies."

The king turned his face away and Legolas slowly walked toward the door. "Legolas..." his father bade, unable to say more.

"You have your answer, Father," Legolas said, not turning. "I shall marry Mithryn tomorrow and these discussions will cease. Goodnight." He stepped out of the room pulling the great door closed behind him.

Morning sun rose; at long last, the wedding day arrived! Mithryn was happily surrounded by handmaidens as well as great Elven Ladies, including Elmarin. They all busily fussed over her hair, gown and body in preparation for this extraordinary evening. Traditional, elaborately prepared bridal food was set out in her now cramped cottage as she was not permitted to leave upon risk of seeing the bridegroom prior to the wedding.

Mithryn was kept busy from dawn with perfumed baths, hair dressing and arranging, trousseau fittings, and gift openings, yet, all the while, anxiously waiting for the sun to set. The wedding would begin when the stars first showed their twinkling lights and not before; for Mithryn, they could not come soon enough. Hours passed with much laughing and talking when, at last, she stood amongst the fair crowd, dressed to be married. Mithryn's hair was delicately braided and twisted with curls cascading down her long, white gown. Tiny silver beads covered the gossamer dress, sparkling and tinkling slightly with every step. Set upon her head was a wreath of green leaves with fresh wild flowers. The ladies stepped back, gazing with pride at the exquisite sight which stood before them.

"Well, what say you, Elmarin?" Mithryn asked anxiously, wanting to look especially perfect for her husband to be.

Elmarin smiled, and, with eyes shining, replied, "You appear to me a very noble bride; most beautiful, wise, and equal to the task of wife to our good prince."

Mithryn sighed with relief when, suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. A handmaiden answered the caller and promptly curtsied upon seeing who stood in the doorway. She opened the door wide and King Thranduil strode in. He was most elegantly clad and Mithryn did not believe she had ever seen him dressed so magnificently. His dark, emerald robes were trimmed with a silver, elven, scrolled design and, upon his head, he wore a delicately braided, mithril crown. All the Ladies instantly curtsied, including Mithryn.

"Mithryn, my child!" the king exclaimed upon the sight of her. "What a vision you are!" Turning to the company he added, "Ladies, I thank you and compliment your work. Now, if you will but give us a moment." The Noblewomen, delighted that they had pleased their Elven-lord, paid homage once more before filing out, leaving the pair alone. Mithryn was not nervous, for she had no knowledge of Thranduil and Legolas's previous conversation. She simply gazed at him, hoping for a kind, fatherly word.

"Are you happy, my dear?" he said after a few moments of silence.

"Exceedingly, your Majesty. This is what we both have wished for. There is little more I could desire."

Thranduil stared at her then nodded. "You make him happier than I have ever seen, and there is nothing more a father wishes for his son. Ah, but I forget my mission!" he said as he pulled a long, flat box from under his robes. "Your wedding gift for Legolas arrived from Rivendell. I believe the Elven Smiths surpassed themselves. Elrond was kind enough to oversee it being crafted, the nature of the gift, being what it is." Thranduil handed Mithryn the box. Her trembling fingers opened it revealing a mithril medallion attached to a long chain. An elegant engraving of a tree was etched on one side, while on the other, read: 'The love which I hold for thee, never shall fade,' inscribed in flowing Sindarin script.

"Are you pleased? Did they follow your instruction sufficiently?" Thranduil asked.

"I am extremely pleased; it is exactly how I had envisioned! Do you think he will admire it?"

"I do," the king replied, smiling. "I believe he shall treasure it very much indeed."

Legolas, meanwhile, had been pacing about his windowless chamber in an anxious state. His three brothers were his only companions and they did little to ease his discomposure. Haldof lay on the bed, bored, staring at the vaulted ceiling while Tarnil and Galamed occupied themselves with Legolas's collection of books.

"Tarnil, pray go and examine the sky for me," Legolas said, nervously. "I long to know if the sun has set yet."

Tarnil sighed and stared at his brother reproachfully. "Legolas, I have only just returned from your mission to do thus and you shall have to wait longer until I go again. I assure you, it has not set but you shall be the first to know when it occurs."

The groom let out an exasperated huff and resumed his pacing motions. He was elegantly clothed in long, luxurious robes adorned with sparkling silver; a wreath, matching that of Mithryn's, sat upon his head. "Brother," Haldof said to Legolas, jesting, if it distresses you so, you need not wed Mithryn. There is time yet; the union may still be cast aside."

Legolas stopped his activity and glared at his brother with bright eyes from under his leafy crown. "On my wedding day, Haldof, I do not find such levity amusing."

Haldof laughed silently, enjoying his brother's discomfort and ill humour. Galamed merely rolled his eyes and returned to his book. The heavy, wooden door opened abruptly and their father and king appeared, standing in the doorway. "My sons, I am pleased to find you all together. You are, I hope, giving Legolas the support he requires before making so great a commitment."

"For the most part," Legolas replied, sending an annoyed glance in Haldof's direction.

"I am heartily glad to hear it," Thranduil said. "Now, I would ask the three of you to leave me with the groom."

Haldof, Tarnil and Galamed all rose and exited the chamber without another word. Once the door was shut, Thranduil turned to his son. "Matrimonial attire suits you, my son."

"I will only to wear it once, Father," Legolas said, unemotionally. His father's painful words, said the night before, were foremost on his mind; he did not wish for a repeated confrontation that would satisfy neither.

Thranduil sighed. "Legolas, I wish to apologize for my rashness last night. It was most obdurate of me. I do hope that on this wonderful day, you can forgive me."

Legolas's heart softened immediately. "Of course I forgive you, Father. I understand your fears and would share in them if it were one of my brothers in my place. But, my choice is made."

The king nodded and approached his son, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. "And I respect your choice, Legolas. Mithryn is an exceptional Lady. She will make an excellent Queen to these woods. Now," he said, as they sat in two mammoth chairs by the weak fire, "you have maintained your secret long enough. What is it you mean to give her as your marital token?"

Legolas extended his hand and opened it to reveal a small ring bearing a green stone. Thranduil's eyes opened brightly at the sight of the band. "Your mother's ring," he said, picking it up and holding it adoringly. "She would be pleased to know it was given with such love."

"I wish she could be here tonight, of all nights."

"No more than she wishes it, I am sure. I do not miss her any less with the passing centuries. Alas that it is the reverse. It was a mistake to allow her to leave me."

Legolas furrowed his brow. "You would have commanded her to stay?"

"Nay, you misunderstand; I should have joined her on her voyage. These woods, my home, my heart have never recovered from her absence."

Legolas stared at his father and wondered of his own heart. Twelve hundred years had passed since his eyes beheld his mother, his father grieving every day. How would his own heart fare twelve hundred years after the passing of Mithryn?

"Ah, but we must have no more woe, my son, for this is a time to be most joyful!" Thranduil said, returning his son's ring. "I know you shall be very happy with the time you share with Mithryn, regardless of the length."

Legolas smiled as he clasped the ring, dreaming of the years to come.

At last word came that the sun had set and that the remaining golden hue had drained from the darkening sky. Stars began to peak out of their shelter and glittered divinely overhead. The king and Legolas were informed by an exuberant Tarnil that all was now prepared for the wedding to commence.

Legolas strode out with his brothers and father at his side. Indeed, the courtyard glowed with mystical grandeur. Tall candlesticks were set out along the trellised isle down which Mithryn would walk. A grand arbor was erected with leafy vines and flowers entwining along its woven web. All the Elves in the kingdom were present, with the exception of those from the garrison who were patrolling the boarders.

Thranduil strode down the isle, nodding to his people as he passed, his sons following closely behind. As the king took position in the center of the circular arbor, minstrels let flow their enchanting song. Legolas took his place to the left of his father, his brothers standing statuesquely at his side; they did not have long to wait.

Elmarin appeared at the isle entrance, gracefully making her way down the flowered path. Legolas gasped when she had passed. Mithryn stood at the bowered passage, glowing with her own mystical light. Legolas gazed in complete awe at his wife to be; never, to his eyes, had she appeared more radiant or shone with such beauty. He was simply overwhelmed; his heart ached with love.

Mithryn walked slowly down the leafy path, eyes fixed unshakably on her true love. She still harboured a shred of fear that her glorious dream would burst and all would come crashing down in ruin. Yet, there she was, about to commit to her heart's only desire.

Stepping up, she joined them on the latticed bower, clasping hands with Legolas. Thranduil began to speak; his words handsome and poetic in his native tongue. Legolas and Mithryn heard naught. They gazed into each other's beaming faces, reading each other's soul. Legolas's thoughts were absorbed in the delicate beading on her dress, and how her flaming hair was complimented by the leafy crown. Mithryn's mind warmed toward the impish grin Legolas bore on his face, and noted that his eyes were filled with such tender love.

The adoring couple were both snatched out of worshipping thought when the king was made to repeat his last question. Legolas looked bashfully at his father. "Uh, aye Father," he said as he turned back to Haldof, who stood amused, and handed Legolas the ring. Legolas slipped the ring on Mithryn's tiny finger, saying, "I offer to you this token with all my love and affection through all eternity."

Mithryn turned to Elmarin who handed her the medallion. Gently holding the necklet, she repeated his same words. Reaching up, she slipped the chain over his wreath, letting it lay on his broad chest. He gazed at the shiny token, reading its tender message.

The king bade the couple to cross their wrists and hold hands. They followed his direction and he, then, brought forth a long, silver scarf. As Thranduil wove it around their wrists, Mithryn noted how ancient, and delicate it felt on her skin. When at last they were bound together, Legolas said, "With all my heart and will, I bind myself to thee, Mithryn."

She smiled, her hands tightened their grip to his. "With all my heart and will, I bind myself to thee, Legolas." Thranduil raised his hands and gloriously proclaimed them wed; intense cheers resounded far into the kingdom followed by the sound of iavin trumpets so that even the guards on duty could rejoice as well.

The king sat at the head of the long table during the feast with Legolas and Mithryn on either side. They gazed at each other incessantly during the entire meal, delighted smiles on their faces. Music played gaily, dancing commenced and tales of old were recounted by the most gifted of storytellers. Mithryn

stood conversing with a group of Elven Ladies when Legolas approached them. "I pray you will excuse us, Ladies; I must have a word with my wife." The gathering laughed as Legolas led Mithryn away into the weald.

Haldof was watching the pair with amusement. Galamed quickly strode up to him. "Haldof, have you seen Legolas? I much desire to speak with him."

"Aye," replied Haldof, pointing into the woods. "He and Mithryn have just entered the wold."

"Ah, I thank you," Galamed said, making to follow, but Haldof quickly pulled him back.

"Nay, Galamed. Legolas has waited long for this. He shall have to remember this night for a long time alone. Let them be."

Galamed nodded in understanding and they both turned and rejoined the boisterous festivities.

"My wife...how I have longed to call you that," Legolas said when they were at last in the quiet of the forest.

"How I have longed to hear it, husband." Mithryn said. Legolas smiled, leaned down, and kissed his wife for the first time. They resumed their stroll, hands clasped together. "Will you tell me now what it is you wished for last night?"

"I have already said, I cannot remember," he said, impish grin reappearing.

"Come now, Legolas. You must not tease your wife on our wedding day."

"I wished for many things," he replied, yielding. "Happiness, children, a peaceful life, but, most of all, I wished for time. I know I must be satisfied with the time you give me, but to me, it seems an unfair amount."

"As it does to me. My wish, as well, was to that very purpose: time. But we do not know what the future shall bring; let us think of it no longer. We are now together; nothing can break the bond to which we have just committed. Not even death."

He drew her close, affectionately holding his dear wife in loving embrace.

Neither of them spoke as he slowly led her discreetly around the festivities, avoiding any encounter, and back toward the Palace to a tall Elven tower, much like Elmarin's home. Gently holding her hand, they ascended up the spiralling steps to the highest door. Taking a spray of mixed flowers from the doorknob, he handed them to Mithryn as a symbol of good luck before entering the wedding abode. He opened the door for her, welcoming her in. "What do you think of it?" he asked.

Mithryn gazed around the stately room. Indeed, it was much larger and more richly decorated than hers, or Elmarin's bedchambers. Crawling Ivy covered the walls, and penitent statues stood about the room. Shelves were filled with books, and ornate carvings. An open, curved balcony filled one wall, its view overlooking the forest, while blooming morning-glories cascaded from the banister. The bed's four posts rose high up to the ceiling, gauzy fabric gently draping from its dark, wooden beams. "It is very fine!" she said at last, taking it all in.

"If you wish, this can be our chamber. Or if you would prefer staying in your cabin, I would not mind. There is also my room in the Palace if you would prefer that."

"Which would you prefer?" she asked, turning to face him. "Do you wish to remain within the Palace walls?"

"I have lived long in that room. These quarters are reserved for the Royal family and it offers slightly more privacy and light than our other chambers. However, I care not where we stay."

Mithryn gazed once more over the splendid room before replying, "I think we should stay here. A fresh start for us both, together. Do you not think?"

Legolas nodded in agreement, closing the door. "I shall have our belonging's brought up here tomorrow." He joined her, his gentle hand caressing her cheek. Mithryn shyly met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. Reaching up, she removed their floral crowns, letting them fall to the ground, carelessly. His lips met her cool forehead, and trailed softly down to her trembling mouth.

**Author's Note:** Reviews are better than Legolas on his wedding night.  Please leave me one!


	14. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know what you think!  I LOOOOOVE comments!

**A/N: OK, WHOA!  It's been a super long time since I've updated this story on this site!!!  Here's a new one, though.  Hope you like it!**

** CHAPTER 14 **

** SECRETS **

Following the Royal Wedding, Legolas had been relieved of his duties for a few days, and neither he nor Mithryn were seen by any, for never did they leave their chamber. Food was routinely left upon their doorstep and it was understood by all that none were to disturb the newlyweds; the king commanded it so.

During the weeks that followed the nuptials, as Legolas's responsibilities as heir to the throne resumed, he and Mithryn recommenced daily life, but now in a more euphoric state of mind. Many noticed the change in Legolas's temper as a smile adorned his face, ceaselessly.

During the feasts, the loving couple did little but gaze adoringly at each other in silence while those around them, the king included, found their conversation to be very dull; none seemed able to entice the pair out of constant worship. Haldof repeatedly told Galamed how ill he felt watching them and how he refused to speak to Legolas again until his newlywed brother spoke in a more rational manner. Secretly, however, he was pleased for Legolas; never before had he seen him so happy.

In the warm morning sunlight, Legolas impatiently waited for Galamed by the stairwell to his tower. At length, Haldof approached, but Galamed was not to be seen.

"Where is Galamed? Have you seen him, for he was to meet me, but already he is very late!" Legolas asked, perturbed.

"He has been assigned to other duties this morning. I shall be going in his stead."

The two began walking deep into the woods to the kingdom's nearest boundary. Legolas's brow was creased with confusion and ire. "What duty?"

Haldof would not meet his gaze. "I know not. What matter is it to you?"

"Galamed has been acting so strange of late. Have you not noticed? I wonder if I should speak to Father..."

Haldof stopped and quickly turned to Legolas. "You will do nothing of the sort. Let it be."

"What is all this, Haldof? What are you not telling me? Ever since my wedding, Galamed has been acting so peculiar. I demand you tell me!"

"You are not king yet, Legolas," Haldof said, resuming his pace.

"Why all this secrecy? Why are you in his confidence, and not I?" Legolas asked, following sprightly.

Haldof's pace quickened all the more. "It is not my secret to tell!"

Legolas stepped into a run, and soon the pair were racing to the edge of the boundary with great speed. Upon reaching it, they quickly stopped, chests heaving. "Does he not trust me?" Legolas asked, somewhat hurt.

Haldof shook his head. "Do not be a fool, Legolas. You have been busy. During the passing months, your eyes and mind have been distracted elsewhere." Legolas was about to rebut but Haldof interrupted. "Nay, allow me to continue. We do not hold it against you. You have maintained your duties with honour and propriety, as well as followed your heart. I am simply saying that during that time, while you were so preoccupied, things have happened."

"I am not so wholly inattentive, Haldof! I know all of Tarnil's plans, for he has told me."

"Tarnil?" Haldof said in confusion. "I speak of Galamed and not of Tarnil. He has plans? What plans?"

Legolas bit his lip. "Now it is my turn to say that his secret is not mine to share. I did not realize he had not told you."

Furrowing his brow, Haldof's mind was busy with puzzled thought. "Now I wish to speak to Tarnil."

Legolas nodded. "And I with Galamed." Simultaneously, they both turned away from the border, and with displeased faces, quickly strode back to the palace. While heading for its massive stone doors, Haldof said, "You will not find Galamed in his quarters."

Legolas stopped instantly. "Well then, where shall I find him?" Haldof stared but made no reply. "Where shall I find him, Haldof?" Legolas asked again, using a more indignant tone.

Haldof sighed, relenting. "In Hidden Valley."

"Hidden Valley? He traveled by pony? What was his errand in going so far in our kingdom? Nay, wait; I forget," Legolas said, waving his brother off. "You cannot tell me. Should I suppose him to be in any danger?"

Haldof stared long into his brother's earnest eyes. "Yes," he said at last.

"Understood. I shall seek him out." Haldof hurried into the palace and Legolas strode to his own bedchamber to fetch his weapons case.

Upon entering the stables, he found several white ponies in their stalls, as well as Anfalas. He approached the large, Rohan horse, gently petting her muzzle. "How fare you, Anfalas? Do you wish to go for a ride? I do not think Mithryn would mind if we had a run, do you?" The massive horse neighed, rearing her large head up, giving her consent. Opening the door, Legolas led her out, jumped lightly on her back, and they swiftly rode toward Hidden Valley.

Finaviel was regarded as a most beautiful baby among the elves. Mithryn, gazing at the helpless child and thinking of her long future with no end, cradled the happy child and she slowly dipped her into the basin of warm water. Elmarin sat, watching her friend bathe her small infant. "Did Legolas tell you of the tapestry?"

"Nay. Have the ladies begun work on one?"

"There is not one, but two. One is being sewn of your wedding, and the other of Finaviel's birth. Your likeness shall be on each."

Mithryn smiled warmly for she was greatly touched indeed knowing these tapestries would be held dear as historical items. She would live forever in their memories, and for some, in their hearts as well. Her full attention was brought back to Finaviel as the child joyously shrieked and splashed her arms in the water. Lifting her up, Mithryn placed her on a towel, enveloping her.

"I am truly touched," she said, returning the child to it's mother's arms.

"Indeed, I would have it no other way. You played such an important role in Finaviel's birth; that must be commemorated." Elmarin gazed up at Mithryn's face to find it, suddenly, much altered, contorting with affliction. "Mithryn?" she said, concerned.

Mithryn, however, was no longer in control. Raising her palm up to her forehead, she winced as the pain took rein. Elmarin gently lay Finaviel on the bed and rushed to her friend's aid. She clasped Mithryn's hand until a sea of calm washed over her.

"Mithryn, what is it? Are you ill? Shall I send for aid?"

"Nay, it passes," Mithryn said, softly rubbing her sore temple. "Do not worry for me. The visions come quickly, but are swift to pass."

"You had a vision? Of what did you see?"

Placing her hand over her mouth, Mithryn's brow furrowed with disturbing thought. "I fear I cannot say," she said, her eyes meeting those of Elmarin. "Pray forgive me. I do not understand what I have seen. For now, I think it best only I know this event."

"I trust your judgement, Mithryn."

"I...I must find Legolas." she said, exiting the chamber in a distressed state.

Legolas and Anfalas rode far north to the mountains that lay beyond his father's palace. Hidden Valley was a primeval place which Legolas had not seen for some time. The mountains rose high up as he approached them. Taking a pass through a gully, Legolas rode swiftly to the north side of the largest of the three mountains, Fidelis. Charging to the top of a hill, Anfalas came to a stop and Legolas gazed with skillful Elven eyes over the vast rolling landscape. In front stretched an immense, green valley, lush with sprays of wildflower and with a stream winding along its center. Trees were scarce and the extensive vale was encircled by soaring mountains.

At first, Legolas could see no sign of this brother, but the sparkle of the sun as it danced upon the water caught his eye. There, laying beside the brook, was Galamed, and two white, elven ponies grazed nearby. To Legolas's surprise, Galamed was not alone by the riverbank. Beside him sat an Elf-maiden with flowing flaxen hair which fluttered in the gentle breeze. Even at a distance, Legolas recognized her. "Anardil..." he said quietly to himself, shaking his head.

From afar, Legolas watched as the maiden leaned down, kissing his brother. Galamed drew her close and she lay on the grass beside him. There was no mistaking the nature of their relationship. Legolas turned away. Commanding Anfalas to swerve about, and feeling very much the fool sent on Haldof's merry chase, Legolas rode down the hill homeward without a backward glance.

After hours of searching her quarters, the palace halls, and the wide wood, Mithryn finally relented and hoped that Legolas would come to her. Mithryn sat at the table in their stateroom desperately trying to focus her attention upon her book, but to no avail. Relentlessly, her mind flashed back to the images in her vision; a disturbing future had been foreshadowed which she could not shake. Suddenly, the door burst open and Legolas strode in, much agitated.

"Legolas, where have you been? I could not find you and then your father sent for you and I knew not what to say."

Legolas let out an exasperated sigh, striding to his armoire, and placed his weapons inside. "I am sorry I said naught to you. I had to ride northward."

"North? For what reason?"

He merely shook his head. "Haldof...sent me off after Galamed on a merry chase. Merry for him, perhaps. I fail to find his tricks entertaining."

"Well," she replied, "I doubt you are half as angry at Haldof, as Tarnil is with you. I met with him while I was searching for you. I did not know he could become so impassioned."

Legolas winced, remembering his morning conversation with his brother. Indeed, Tarnil would be most irate with him.

"What did you do to make him so enraged with you?" she asked, perplexed.

Legolas replied by only shaking his head; no words would he say. In this instance, he knew he had been greatly in the wrong, and would soon pay for it. Well, if he had to suffer Tarnil's pique, Haldof would certainly suffer his.

"What a closed book you are today, dearest. Very well, as you wish. Listen, I do not mean to add to your troubles, but there is something very important I need to discuss."

Their attention, however, was abruptly distracted by a servant standing at the door. "I beg your pardon, Prince Legolas," the elf said. "The door was ajar."

"Nay, it is alright, Noriath," Legolas replied. "You do not disturb."

Mithryn looked reproachfully at her husband. This disruption, indeed, was disturbing for her.

"It is your father, my lord," Noriath continued. "He begs conference with thee, as well as with your brothers."

"Aye," Legolas replied. "Pray inform his lordship that I am coming."

Noriath bowed and hastily exited down the spiral steps.

Turning back to his wife, Legolas placed his hands on her sloping shoulders. She did not meet his gaze. "I am sorry, Mithryn. I fear our conversation must wait."

It was her turn to simply nod, and make no reply. He kissed her on her forehead, and strode out of the room in much the same manner as he had entered it.

Legolas entered his father's study to see him, Tarnil and Haldof already seated at the long table by the fire. Galamed was noticeably absent. Upon Legolas's arrival, Haldof's face broke out in a mischievous grin while Tarnil eyed him, scornfully.

Thranduil, however, maintained the least emotional demeanor of those present, though, he did not appear in the best of spirits, either.

"Come in, son," the king bade Legolas, who quickly took a seat beside his father. "You come at the end of the meeting, I fear. Haldof shall acquaint you with our discussion."

"Aye, Father," Legolas said, gently.

"Yes, yes. You may go, now," the king said. His three sons rose and moved to leave when Thranduil quickly called back. "Not you, Legolas."

Legolas stopped. Haldof turned to him, patted him on the shoulder and smiled wickedly. It took all of his strength not to strike a blow in return, but Legolas refrained from getting himself into deeper trouble.

When Haldof and Tarnil had left, Legolas resumed his seat. Thranduil turned to him, face stern. "Must I ask where you have been all this time?"

"I am sorry, Father," Legolas said remorsefully. "I went in search of Galamed."

"Yes, Haldof spoke of his little jest played upon you. Yet, that is no excuse for you to ignore your responsibilities. Nathuil had to replace you. It is not becoming of my sons to be lax in their duties. You, most of all!"

"Aye, Father; you are right. I am sorry. It shan't happen again."

"Pray make the effort to see that it does not." Suddenly, the door opened and Galamed entered. "I am sorry. Did you wait long for me?" he said most unwittingly.

"Aye," Thranduil said, motioning for Galamed to sit. "However, naught is to be done about it now."

"Shall I leave you now, Father?" Legolas asked as he stood, anxious to escape.

"Nay," the king commanded. "As heir to the throne, I feel you have not had enough opportunity to lead and make important decisions. You shall stay, for I am interested in your judgement as well." Legolas sat down.

"Now, Galamed," the king began. "Why did you exchange duties with Haldof? You were assigned to patrol the southwest boarder, not he."

"I did not think I would be missed," Galamed replied, anxiously.

"Yet, this is not the first instance I know of. Tell me, what is it in Hidden Valley that repeatedly draws you so far from here?" Thranduil asked. Galamed stood agape, eyes turned toward Legolas who did not seem at all surprised. "Nay, my son," the king continued when he had not received an answer. "Your brothers have not betrayed your confidence. Surely you would know that I, your father and king, would know the goings on in my own kingdom? However, I wish to hear the truth from your own lips."

Galamed nervously cast his eyes downwards, fearful to meet the gaze of any. "I am in love and have been meeting my Lady there."

"How long?" Thranduil inquired.

"Several months now. Prior to the attack on the orc camp."

"And who is this Lady that you feel you must hide from us?" the king asked.

Galamed sat in silence, either unwilling or unable to answer. At length, Legolas answered for him. "Anardil. It is Anardil."

Galamed stared at his brother in amazement; Thranduil sighed and covered his mouth with his hand. It took Galamed several moments to find his tongue. "I understand she is young, Father, but she is of age."

"Barely," Thranduil replied. "She has only, last winter, reached the age of courtship. She is too young for you, Galamed."

"I feel I ought to be the one to make that decision," Galamed replied, feelingly.

Thranduil shook his head and turned toward Legolas. "What is your opinion on this subject? As king, what would you say?"

Galamed looked beseechingly at his brother who refused eye contact with either his father or brother. "She is too young," he said at last.

Galamed gazed at his brother, hurt. "Who are to you to speak to me of this?! Mithryn being the second youngest person in our kingdom, and that did not prevent you from wedding her! How dare you adjudge me?!"

Thranduil sighed again. "You both give me much to contemplate. I shall give my opinions on these subjects, as well as others, tomorrow. Now, leave me in peace."

Quickly and quietly, the two brothers rose and exited the study. When the great oak door was closed, Galamed turned on Legolas. "Why did you not defend me? It is you he listens to! Legolas, I am your brother!"

"He asked my honest opinion if I were king and I gave it. But I am not king. It should not matter to you if I agree with your choice or not."

"But it does matter, Brother. Your opinion has always mattered, as does your loyalty," Galamed said before striding away.

Legolas exited the palace to find Haldof waiting for him neath the arbor. Legolas eyed him warily. "I do not find your games amusing, Brother. Neither did Father."

I great laugh escaped Haldof. "I am sorry, Legolas. I had no idea you would ride after Galamed as you did."

"What did you expect?!" blasted Legolas. "You led me to believe he was going into danger alone! Nay, leave me. I am in no mood for your antics right now."

Haldof shook his head. "May I remind you of all the mischief you played upon me not too long ago? It was you who placed me in some very hot water indeed, with Father! I still do not believe he has forgiven me for some. Like when I crossed the Monuath Gorge on a tight rope. Or when I..."

"Aye, but things have changed," Legolas interrupted, his face serious. "I am married now, and I have responsibilities as heir that cannot be ignored. You would not understand..."

Those last words pained Haldof. "I am not such a simpleton, Brother, to not know what your duties be! Married life has changed you, Legolas," Haldof said before backing away, and leaving Legolas alone.

Elven merrymaking recommenced, yet, neither the king nor his sons had much wish to join the festivities that night. Legolas and Mithryn retired early after dinner; being newlyweds, they were not expected to offer any excuse.

"You were very quiet tonight, husband," Mithryn said upon their entering their abode.

Legolas stood at the balcony, gazing outward. "My thoughts overcame me, I fear." Suddenly, remembering his previous conversation with his bride, he turned to see her seated upon the bed. "I am sorry, my love. You had something to tell me, did you not? It has been a most turbulent day!"

"Ah," Mithryn began. "I do not mean to alarm you, but, while you were away, I had a vision."

Legolas quickly took seat beside her, clasping her hands. "Of what did you see?"

She breathed deeply, staring into his cool, azure eyes. "I cannot tell you."

"You wished to tell me earlier..."

"Aye, but now that I have given it some thought, I do not think it wise, for I barely understand it myself. However, Legolas, I must bid you to make me a promise."

"Mithryn, these blind promises you force me to make...it is not fair. Not even you can see the whole future. It is alterable, as even you have said. Is this truly necessary?"

"It would comfort me."

"Very well, then, if it shall give you peace of mind. What is it you wish me to swear?"

"Legolas, the time may come when others you hold dear shall depart for the Grey Havens. You must promise me not to go with them."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "I do not understand. Why must I not go with them?"

"You must promise not to go with them. You shall depart when your heart bids you." she said firmly yet gently, meanwhile refusing to answer his question. "Do you promise to follow my direction in this matter?"

Legolas sighed, staring at her. "I do, if only to give you comfort, although it gives me none. I wish I could see what you have seen."

"But you cannot, therefore, you must trust my judgement."

"And I do," Legolas said, as he leaned in and kissed her. He rose off the bed and walked to the balcony again, eyes examining the clearing. Many festive Elves could he see and hear. Suddenly, something stepped out of the palace which caught his attention immediately; it was the unmistakable, hunched figure of the creature Gollum surrounded by four guards. Their bows were fully armed as they walked the beast out of the clearing and under the shroud of trees.

"Dearest, come to bed," Mithryn bade him from behind, in the shadows. Her husband cast one long glance at the guards and their captive before shedding his clothes and joining her.

**Author's Note:** Please review and let me know what you think!  I LOOOOOVE comments!


	15. Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic tale of Legolas falling in love with a human. This story spans prior to the War of the Ring, and concludes at the sailing for Valinor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and share your thoughts with me!  I'll update all the faster if I know someone's reading!!!

**CHAPTER 15**

**REVENGE**

Night wore on and gradually the merrymaking ceased, all falling quiet in the forest. Mithryn and Legolas lay asleep in bed, their bodies intertwined around each other. Suddenly, the harsh, shrill call of iavin broke the still of the night. Legolas shook himself out of sleep. A great commotion could be heard in the clearing below.

Mithryn woke as he abruptly sat up. "Legolas, what is it? What goes on?"

"I do not know," he said while rising and pulling on his breeches. He hurried to the balcony, gazing out at the chaotic scene below. The iavin could still be heard far in the depths of the forest as elven warriors hastily massed together in front of the palace, receiving orders from their commanders. Tarnil and Galamed, armed, ran to the base of Legolas's tower and called up to him.

"What has happened?" Legolas shouted down.

"Orcs!" Tarnil cried. "They've attacked our southernmost boarder and are invading!"

Legolas swung about and completed his dressing. Glancing over at Mithryn, he saw her doing the same. She wore a pair of his breeches which were too long for her legs but which she gathered around her ankles. Just as she pulled a tight doublet over her bare chest, he exclaimed, "What are you doing?!"

"You can hardly expect me to fight in a gown, Legolas!"

Legolas stood aghast as she fastened Gilóre around her waist, and slipped on her shoes. "I do not expect you to fight at all! You could get hurt, or worse!"

"Need I remind you who saved you near my cabin? Spare me your heroics, husband," she said before striding out of the room and down the steps. Legolas snatched his weapons harness and briskly followed her. They met at the bottom of the stair. Elven women were scurrying toward the palace while soldiers charged deep into the forest; lovers made their quick goodbyes before being separated. Mithryn and Legolas watched the frenzied scene. "Mithryn, you must listen to me. This is not your fight. Please, I beg of you. Go into the palace with the others. You shall be safe there."

"How can you stand before me and say that this is not my fight?" Mithryn rebutted. "Is this not my home now? I can be of great service here, Legolas. You know that!"

He clasped her arms tightly. "It is dangerous, do you not understand? In the madness of battle, I cannot protect you."

Mithryn gazed at the massive palace doors. A sentry of ten soldiers guarded it. "What is their purpose? I had thought the doors magical?"

"They are, but Orcs can still do much damage."

"Can I not at least fight with them? How likely is it that Orcs shall come this far? Please, Legolas, permit me to do something other than sit and stitch tapestries while you are in peril. I can be of more use than that. You know of my powers; allow me to use them."

Legolas's eyes darted about the turbulent scene, a thousand thoughts flying through his mind. "If you insist, though I will worry for you," he said at last. "I would ask that you be extremely careful. I know not what I would do without you."

"I swear to do this and I hope you follow your own advice. I do not want to lose you this night."

His eyes stared penetratingly into hers before he passionately kissed her with all the distressed love he bore in his heart. Then, without a backward glance, he sprinted with agile grace out of the clearing; Mithryn watched him quickly disappear into the void.

The clearing lay eerily desolate now. She approached the garrison protecting the palace. All did she recognize, but only one did she know by name. The leader of the lethal guards was none other than Elmarin's husband, Taranin, who called out to Mithryn as she approached. "Make haste, Mithryn! The palace doors must be closed!"

"Then close them, Taranin," she replied, "for I shall not pass its threshold."

The sleek, Elven watchmen eyed her with confusion. Taranin shook his head. "Mithryn, it is not safe outside now. Pray go in with the other females."

"Nay, Taranin. I make my stand with you. It is my choice to fight and not to hide," she replied steadfast and determined.

"Mithryn," Taranin began, stepping closer to her, "I apologize for my actions, but you leave me no choice for no time do I have to argue with you. This is for your own safety." He moved closer to pick her up but her right hand flew out and, with blasting force, sent Taranin hard to the earth. He, as well as the other Elves present, stared at her with startled alarm.

Mithryn withdrew Gilóre from her sheath; the sword burst into resplendent flame. Holding it high aloft her head, she said, "If you insist, Taranin, I shall fight you. However, I think our energy would best be spent combating our enemy instead of each other. Is it still your wish to stand against me?"

Rising off the ground, Taranin scrutinized with awe the womanly warrior who stood before him. "Nay, I do not wish to feud with you. It would be an honour to fight with you at our side, and die if need be."

"Nay," Mithryn said, sheathing her sword. "The honour is mine."

The great stone doors closed and would not again open except upon explicit command from the King, himself. The guards welcomed Mithryn to their post; she took up surveillance with them, gazing with wary eyes into the murky wold.

Ever vigilant, Legolas ran with speed and intrepidity south. Clashing swords and violent cries could be heard echoing through the hot summer night. Many elven warriors were around him, each alike in dedication to duty and purpose. Legolas swiftly armed his bow and soon made use of it. Orcs were on the move northward, and his bow began to sing. A mass of menacing Orcs, mouths wide with formidable screams, approached the elves. Legolas abandoned his bow for his long sword which sliced and cut through the wall of Orcs confronting him.

A large Orc violently elbowed Legolas, catching him off-guard and sending him to the ground. Quickly rolling out of the way, he narrowly missed the razor sharp edge of the Orc blade. Legolas rose and blade collided against blade. With powerful motion, Legolas grabbed the Orc's wrist and twirled him back, twisting his arm, nearly breaking it. Pushing the great brute hard against a tree, he banged the Orc's hand against it, releasing the creature's weapon. Suddenly, Legolas's eyes gazed downward to the hand which he held fast; there were only four fingers. With sickening awareness, Legolas gazed into the grotesque face of the Orc, recognizing him as among the band that hunted him all those months past.

"What is your purpose here?!" Legolas snarled.

The odious beast laughed, displaying his mouth of rotting teeth. In reply, Legolas drew up his sword, slowly slicing the Orc's neck; black filth sputtered out. "Where is your leader?!" Legolas demanded. "Where is the beast you call Ugnúl?! I shall slice off your head if you do not tell me!"

The smile faded from the Orc's face; he could feel his warm blood ooze down his chest. "He is here as well. No telling where for certain."

"For what do you come here? Tell me!"

"You hold our prisoner."

Legolas stared long into the Goblin's glowing green eyes before finally stepping away. "Go," he instructed the beast.

The Orc turned to leave, but stopped after taking a few steps. "Ugnúl is here for another mission, as well."

Legolas gazed at him with distrustful eyes. "What mission?"

A malicious, evil grin spread across the Goblin's face, and he secretly pulled out a smaller knife. "It concerns the witch. Ugnúl knows you hide her here. He has gone in search of her. If you wish to find Ugnúl, find the witch."

Legolas's eyes shot open with horror. "Mithryn," he whispered. Without a second thought, he began running with all his strength back toward the palace.

Without hesitation, the Orc moved to follow Legolas before promptly being shot by an elven arrow. His body fell to the ground, dead. Haldof gazed down, making sure the beast was dead, and then watched Legolas become enveloped in the shroud of night.

Mithryn stood with the soldiers, eyes fixed on the grim menace positioned before them. Elven bows were armed and ready while Mithryn's hands were free. A hoard of thirty orcs or more stood at the edge of the forest, their threatening, evil eyes glowing in the darkness. In the center of the mob stood Ugnúl, tall and powerful, smiling venomously at Mithryn. "I'll lay wager," Ugnúl began, "you did not think you should see me again. Whereas I've always known we would meet once more."

Mithryn glared at the massive savage in front of her. Though she held no weapon in her hand, her fist was clenched, ready for her breath.

"Cat got your tongue?" Ugnúl smirked. "Never fear; soon I shall have it." He raised up his sword and let up a bloodcurdling roar. His soldiers followed suit, all raising their weapons and making the same bone-chilling sound.

With one motion, Mithryn brushed her fist across her mouth, blowing upon it, and instantly threw its contents at the Orc leader. A burning sphere flew from her hand; Ugnúl swung at it, hitting it with the blunt of his sword. The flaming orb collided with another Orc, and upon impact, covered the goblin in a sheet of flame. The Orc screamed wildly but his companions were not discouraged and none came to his aid. Suddenly, Ugnúl sounded the charge and they moved forward with puissant force.

Mithryn, however, was not finished. She threw up both her hands causing a more powerful blast wave than she had ever before created. The Orcs were sent flying off their feet and landed far back from where they originally stood. The Elves were quick to use this distraction; arrows soared through the night sky.

Many Orcs were slain but those not fatally injured appeared undaunted by the defense. They hastily rose and once more assailed upon the small group of Elven warriors and Mithryn. She withdrew and swung Gilóre, killing numerous Orcs with furious intent.

Ugnúl slowly approached Mithryn, filthy sword in his hand, and with a broken arrow protruding from his stomach. He lurched toward her with such loathing and hate, no injury seemed to hinder him. Preparing herself, she grasped Gilóre with both hands before he suddenly charged at her with brutal force. Ducking, Mithryn barely escaped the swinging blade. The carnage and world around them seemed to fade away as both were solely focused on each other. Mithryn served a quick kick to Ugnúl's injury; he grunted in pain, which quickly turned to sinister laughter. One gruesome hand of his was forever free, attempting to seize her. Fiercely she swung her blade, struggling to keep him at a distance, knowing that if she could just get one hand free, she could use her powers. Yet, the force of his blows prevented this; handling Gilóre required both hands.

Changing tactics, Ugnúl swung low at Mithryn's knees. Blocking his thrust, she did not see his hand move close until too late. He clenched her throat and squeezed with delight. Her left hand released her sword but no breath could she produce from her lips. She placed her hand against his temple, which sent them both flying backward, yet, his hold did not weaken. She landed atop of him, and for one moment, his guard was down. Gasping for air and Gilóre, she plunged the blade deep between his ribs. The beast cried out and his grip finally weakened. She slid off, leaving her sword in his still body. Coughing and heaving for air, she now gazed about the frenzied scene still gripped in bloody action. Fewer orcs remained, and at first, all elves seemed busy with battle. Yet, over the pile of gruesome bodies, she saw the shine of fair elven hair. She rose, still breathless, and approached the fallen elf.

"Taranin!" she whispered, kneeling beside her wounded friend. A grisly wound was in his shoulder; blood flowed through her fingers as she attempted to apply pressure. His frightened, earnest eyes bore into hers. "I feel my body weaken," he muttered softly. "I fear the blade was poisoned."

Mithryn's mind raced, for she shared that same fear. Her lip trembled; she had not the supplies needed for this manner of injury, nor was there time to collect them. "If I can simply give him some time," she thought, "perhaps something can be done." Tenderly stroking his pale brow, she smiled and calmly bid him, "Close your eyes, Taranin. You must now focus on recovering. Fear not; I shall not let you die."

Taranin followed her instructions, and lay in painful silence. Mithryn sighed; her strength was already much spent. Producing a violet orb in her tiny hand, she skillfully applied it to the wound and sat, eyes closed, in a concentrated, healing state.

Legolas, meanwhile, darted through the brush and forest, legs unable to operate at the speed his heart summoned. Seeing the clearing, he approached it hastily and stopped in shock upon the sight before his eyes. Ugnúl stood behind a seated Mithryn, his blade poised to strike. Within an instant, Legolas's bow was armed and fired, and yet, it was not fast enough. The great Orc stabbed Mithryn in the back, not a moment before the elven arrow struck his own temple.

Mithryn was ripped from focus; her eyes shot open with excruciating shock. Taranin felt the severed connection as well, and upon opening his eyes, saw Mithryn sitting with a pained expression on her face. "Mithryn?" he asked, confused as to her welfare. Only when his eyes rose above her head did he see the grisly head of Ugnúl. The Goblin fell to the earth in a large heap, his sword slowly sliding out of her back.

"Mithryn!" Legolas cried in desperation, but to no avail, for he had come too late. Watching as she slumped onto her side, he rushed to her, pulling her failing body close, his salty tears landing on her soft cheek. Blinking at him, she smiled weakly. The other elves gathered around, having repelled the orc advance and routed those remaining. With grieving faces, they bowed their heads.

Mithryn's languished hand reached up and placed her bloodied fingers to his soft face. "Shh, do not cry for me, my love. I would not have you cry for me." Her hand slid from his face and she fell into devitalizing sleep. Drooping his head and grasping her tightly, he clenched his teeth, releasing a cry of agony.

Thranduil stepped from behind the woeful elves, his eyes summing the events. "Does she live?" he asked, voice steady and composed.

"Aye," Legolas whispered, "she lives, but barely."

The king gazed at Taranin who arose with aid from the others. "Taranin, how do you fare? You have been injured?

"Aye," Taranin replied weakly, "and without the aid of Mithryn...I fear I would be here...no longer. She was healing me...when the beast struck her." He was led to a recovery room for the application of healing poultices and elven tonics.

Immediately turning to one of the soldiers, Thranduil commanded, "Fetch Narbeleth, and have her meet us in Legolas's palace chamber." The elf bolted in quick response, and Thranduil focused his attention on his son and daughter once again. "Legolas, she must be moved; no time is there to spare. Thoreiel, help Legolas carry her."

"Nay!" Legolas cried out. He rose onto his feet, holding her small, limp body tightly in his grasp. "She is my wife. No other shall carry her."

"As you wish," the king replied, and together, they moved with haste down the winding passages to Legolas's previous bedchamber. Blankets were pulled back to reveal fresh sheets, water was fetched, medicines presented, a fire lit, and Narbeleth was there to greet them. Legolas tenderly placed his unconscious, beloved wife upon his bed.

"Naturally you are permitted to stay, your majesty, but I would not recommend it," Narbeleth said calmly, wanting to aid her friend as soon as possible.

"Nay, Narbeleth," Thranduil replied. "None shall be in your way. Come Legolas, we shall wait together."

Legolas, much distraught, covered his mouth with his hand, attempting to ease the ill feeling inside him. "I wish to stay with her," he said quietly.

"Nay, son," Thranduil commanded, gently. "You can do naught for her now. Your brothers shall be returning soon. Come; we shall all wait for news side by side."

Reluctantly, Legolas obeyed. Hand on his son's shoulder, the king led him out and shut the door.

Sitting at the long oak table in his father's reception hall, Legolas knew not what to think, for his mind was a torrent of memories, fears, and realizations. In a daze, he sat hunched over, and consumed himself with contrition.

Thranduil watched his son with growing concern. Dispatchers continuously arrived, relaying news of the battle to their king. They whispered quietly, away from Legolas, not wanting to concern him any more. Upon the last soldier's departure, Haldof burst into the room, dirty and tattered from the combat. Eyeing his brother in a wretched state, he approached his father.

"I am extremely glad to see you are well, Haldof," Thranduil said affectionately. "We have some grievous losses, I understand."

"More than you know, Father," Haldof whispered. "I can find no trace of that wretched creature, Gollum, and what I did discover, disturbs me. The Orcs hunt for him as well; somehow the little deviant spoiled their plan. That did not prevent them, however, from slaying Imcamion and Nurgollion, and taking Nursarn and Maeglonde. I greatly fear for them."

Haldof waited as Thranduil took in the serious news. "Organize several searching parties to look for our kinsmen, as well as for Gollum. Have Nathuil lead them. I wish you to stay here. Your brother, I think, will need you."

"Has there been any word of Mithryn?" Haldof asked, voice lowered so Legolas would not hear.

Thranduil shook his head. "I fear the worst."

Haldof nodded in understanding, swallowed hard, and strode off to carry out his father's orders.  
Within an hour's time, Tarnil and Galamed entered and sat by their brother. Little would Legolas say to them, shocked as he was, but they were there for support and not conversation. At length, Haldof entered, announcing quietly to his father that the search parties had been chosen and sent forth. Taking a seat beside Legolas, Haldof placed a strong hand on his sorrowful brother's back. "Nay, Legolas. Have no disparaging thoughts. Mithryn is strong. I am confident she shall heal."

"Are you certain you should be saying such?" Tarnil asked gently.

"I only say what is in my heart," Haldof replied.

"She shall recover. She must recover," Legolas whispered, eyes red and worried.

Hours passed wearily. Thranduil spoke quietly with Captains and dispatchers who came and went, informing him of the status of the search and of his realm. Much damage had the Orcs caused, but their rotting corpses begot an even larger problem which now had to be dealt with.

Legolas's mood grew darker, rampaging thoughts of self blame devouring him. The ceaseless sitting and waiting proved too much for Haldof. He rose, pacing around the room in an anxious state. "Surely we should have heard some word by now!"

"Narbeleth is working as fast as she is able to cure Mithryn," the king said calmly. "When there is news to hear, we shall be the first to hear it."

Suddenly, Narbeleth stepped into the reception hall. All rose upon her entry; Legolas dashed to her side, his red, teary eyes begging for good tidings. "Please, Narbeleth, I beg of you. Does my wife live?"

The wise Elf-matron stared into his searching eyes. "Aye, Legolas. She lives."

All sighed with relief upon hearing her encouraging words. "And will she recover?" Thranduil asked.

"Aye, my Lord. I believe she will," Narbeleth replied.

"May I see her?" Legolas asked with desperation. Narbeleth nodded, and Legolas sprinted from the hall without further pause.

"Father," Tarnil said, now eased, "may I sound the call informing our people?"

The king granted his son's wish, and Tarnil and Galamed strode off now much relieved for their brother's sake as well as Mithryn's. Thranduil approached Narbeleth and grasped her delicate hands. "You know not what comfort you have brought to me, or my sons."

"I fear," Narbeleth began, "that I have not told your Lordship all."

Thranduil and Haldof exchanged glances of newfound trouble. "Ai, what is this?" the king bade. "What detail have you not said?"

Narbeleth's face was solemn. "She was stabbed, your Grace. I have examined the blade, and I believe there to be a most serious problem. When the sword struck her, it is my opinion that the tip of the sword broke off inside her. It hinders her recovery."

"Can it not be removed?" Thranduil asked, disturbed.

"Nay, your Lordship. At first, I was puzzled why the toxins were so very potent for that sort of wound. I cannot remove the shard. It is embedded too deeply," Narbeleth said, eyes staring steadfastly at her king.

"But you said she would recover," Haldof interceded.

"Aye, for a time," Narbeleth continued. "It is my understanding that she bears great power and strength. I believe it is what is keeping her alive. However, unless the shard can be removed, it will kill her. It is only a matter of time."

"How much time?" Thranduil asked.

Narbeleth thought for a moment. "Three, perhaps four winters. I do not feel comfortable giving a number. She will recover for the moment, but, it will start to debilitate her slowly. She will weaken, and then perish. Its evilness cannot be undone."

Haldof and Thranduil stood in silence, pondering the healers foreboding words. "Is there more?" the king asked at last.

"Nay, my Lord. That is the whole."

"Then you may retire. Thank you so much for your efforts."

Narbeleth bowed, and turned to leave when the King suddenly called her back. "Just one more thing, Narbeleth. I would ask that you do not repeat to anyone what you have just spoken to me. Understand? No one."

"As you wish, my Lord," Narbeleth replied before exiting the hall, leaving the king and Haldof alone.

"Poor Legolas. His heart will break," Haldof said, brow furrowed. "Do you wish to tell him of this, or shall I? I do not mind, Father."

Thranduil stood, mind focused in thought. "Nay, we shall not tell him."

Haldof gaped at his father. "Say naught to him? But, he has a right to know! Do you not think Mithryn shall tell him?"

The king shook his head. "She is not to know either," he said as he took a seat by the fire.

Staring in horror, Haldof could not contain his indignation. "But, they each have a right to know! What is your meaning in hiding this from them?!"

"Though you may not believe it, my son, ignorance is bliss. Let them share what time they have together, not brooding on what the future holds for them. They are not to know." Turning to his son, his eyes were fierce and severe. "You are not to tell them, or any other. Is that understood?"

"Is this the king's command, Father?" Haldof asked, haughtily.

"Aye, it is."

"As you bid, your Majesty," Haldof said impudently before storming out of the hall.

Legolas rushed with hurried footfalls along the myriad of corridors to the chamber that bore his wife. Once standing at the closed door, however, he was hesitant to open it and face reality. It swung open slowly, displaying Mithryn, pale and motionless, lying on his draped bed. He approached her, undone by her deathly face and struggling breath. Sitting beside her and taking her cold, clammy hand in his, he spoke her name softly, with much ache and love. Her eyes slowly opened and sparkled like glistening emeralds.

"Legolas," she whispered raspily, "you have finally come."

"I am here, my love; I am with you now. Never should I have left you," he said, chin trembling.

"There is naught you could have done. I hold you in no fault, and wish you would do likewise. If I should die..."

"Do not say such!" he replied, quick to rebuke her dooming words. A tear trickled leisurely down his cheek. "I have spoken to Narbeleth. You shall recover, I know you shall. Do not speak of things you know not. Would you leave me here so alone?"

"It is my fate," she said sadly. "Whether it be tomorrow or in a thousand years. The time will come. You must not fancy that it will not. It is possible that my death is closer, now, than we had hoped. I do not wish to leave you."

Legolas leaned over and kissed her fevered brow. His lips were refreshingly cool to the intense heat of her skin. "It is not so; it cannot be so. You must struggle to live. Promise that you shall fight for us."

She stared into his blue eyes. "I promise," she whispered.

He drew her close, cradling his frail wife lovingly against his chest and sung an ancient tune; soft and sweetly it fell on her ears. He would sit be her side throughout the remainder of that turbulent night, futilely wishing it was all a nightmare from which he would soon awake. He knew in his heart, however, that no such wish would come true. Life as he knew it would never again be the same.

**Author's Note:** Please review and share your thoughts with me!  I'll update all the faster if I know someone's reading!!!


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